


Reap the Whirlwind

by Birdie (Robin_Knight)



Series: Reap the Whirlwind [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disfigurement, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Implied miscarriage, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Minor Character Death, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:29:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7348933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Knight/pseuds/Birdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter hoped the move to England would bring some closure.</p><p>In a world in which 'mutants' were once considered supernatural - the werewolves, the were-tigers, the mermaids - Peter found himself fascinated by the fantasy of meeting their kind. It was just unlucky that Wade was the first one he would meet. Wade who defied expectation and would turn his world upside-down.</p><p>He knew that Wade would make a perfect specimen, but everything about Wade tempted him into abandoning his duties to Tony. Peter would willingly sacrifice his science, his career, and even his friends just to make sure Wade would be safe.</p><p>Only the ocean kept them apart . . .</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uk-ko](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=uk-ko).



# Chapter One

_‘You need to come back, Wade.’_

_‘It ain’t like I got nothing to come back to,’ muttered Wade. ‘You’ve been down there. You’ve seen them. How’d you think a guy like me will fit in? Think anyone wants the fish that floats, not when they got a whole load of exotic beauties to pick? No way, Priscilla.’_

_‘No one would judge you, I swear.’ Cable gestured to the cove around them. ‘You would rather stay here in isolation? I know you, Wade; you will not survive here with only your mind for company, and when they come – which they will – you will be too weak in both body and soul to fight back. These waters will be your grave. I cannot force your return, but I implore you to think about the consequences to your actions.’_

_The waters were cool against his skin. It felt good upon his scars, so that the temperature provided some relief and kept them moisturised, and he would occasionally splash the surface just to marvel at the ripples and feel the freedom. You couldn’t splash under the waves. You couldn’t splash behind glass. Wade smiled and said: ‘I’m staying’._

_‘Very well, but I promise that I shall watch over you.’_

_Cable swam further back and bowed his head._

_‘Good luck, my friend.’_

* * *

“Yo, Peter, where are you?”

Peter crouched down on the sand. There was a beautiful selection of items; he saw shells whose outsides glistened in the sunlight, almost like pearl or moonstone, and they were collected in a small pile between a circle of carefully placed rocks. He recognised some from the local wildlife, but some looked like they belonged from the tropical islands far away, too far to have accidentally washed up in a cove on the British Isles.

There was also something strange to the side of the pile, which fascinated Peter and tempted him to take the object back to the laboratory for closer analysis. It looked like folk art. There was a ring of seaweed – mostly dried out – tied in a large loop, with each ‘knot’ containing a beautiful gemstone or seashell, and it could have easily been hung as a decoration. Peter wondered whether there was any meaning to it, or if some local children had made a ‘necklace’ with it, but he knew he wasn’t there to gawk at man-made objects.

“Peter, seriously, are you down here?”

Peter turned to see Ava over by the rocks. The cove itself was incredibly small; it was nearly a complete circle shape, enclosed on all sides with steep cliffs, and a long line of rocks extended from one side that could be climbed – albeit with great difficulty – to get to the beach that ran over to the left. There was also a rock in the opening that jutted out from the seawater almost like an old Disney film, whose name escaped Peter in that moment. It was peaceful and water was crystal clear. He could almost get lost in the beauty.

It was a shame that Ava looked less than thrilled, although he couldn’t blame her. The fact that she dressed in a pink bikini, complete with matching sarong, proved that she thought they could get away with slacking off work, and it looked like her already naturally dark skin had been made darker still with a tan. Peter wouldn’t deny that she looked stunning, especially with black hair loose over her shoulders, but she looked incredibly unprofessional.

“What are you doing?” Ava asked.

“What you should be going: work.” Peter smiled at her. “Look it up sometime.”

“Yeah, well, bite me, web-head. Do you know what it’s like as a go-between for Stark and Osborn? You got two guys in a competing market, each one wanting to share research from the other, but – _oh no_ – ‘sharing’ basically means: ‘you let me see your work and I won’t give you any of mine’. It’s like I’m the world’s worst mediator.”

“Isn’t it Stark paying your pay-cheque, though?” Peter cricked his neck and stood up. “You’re supposed to be in a meeting right now regarding ethical testing upon mutants, not stuck here sunbathing while I collect samples. Seriously, ever hear of unemployment?”

“Like you’re one to talk. Collecting seashells isn’t exactly work.”

“Huh? No, I found them like this when I got here.”

Ava gave a noise of disbelief, before she lay down on the sand. The edges of the cove could hardly be called a ‘beach’, but there was enough space for her to lie comfortable, and – on rare occasions – Peter had spotted the odd fisherman in the area from his boat. It wasn’t often he walked to the cove . . . too many rocks to climb, a whole beach to walk along . . . still, it was nice not to worry about the tides or the direct sunlight, especially when working.

“I’ve been wondering who left them here,” he admitted.

The laugh from Ava was gentle, although slightly mocking. He watched as she rolled onto her side; he had to look away with a clearing of his throat, embarrassed and red in the face at the sight of her cleavage pressed into prominence, but she seemed oddly comfortable with her body and had taken measures to protect her modesty. Peter eventually sat next to her, with the strange objects to the side of him, while he mentally cursed the way the sand somehow managed to work its way into his socks and gritted between his toes.

“Could be a mermaid,” suggested Ava.

He rolled his eyes, before he took a chance to lie back in turn, and simply relished in how the clouds above looked so beautiful pressed against a bright blue sky. It was true that marine life wasn’t his speciality, but he couldn’t so much as recall anyone in his life ever having seen such a creature, and – well – it was easy to doubt their existence. Peter threw his hands up above his head, where he began to play with the band about his ring finger.

“What are the chances?”

“You tell me,” said Ava. “You’re the one researching the local life.”

“Yeah, but only because the last intern quit.” Peter clenched his finger with a sigh. “I was quite happy just working as a science teacher, but suddenly I get a phone call saying that his last intern didn’t work out and _someone_ recommended me to take over.”

“I loved Darcy, but a political science major had no right to be studying the effects of the dam on local wildlife . . . I mean you’d think a guy like Stark could hire a team of experts, but I guess local wildlife is pretty low on his list of priorities. You know what I heard? That guy around him has been selling weapons abroad. It’s all a bit sickening when you think about it, but no worse than what Osborn is up to . . . least Stark has a soul.”

“You mean the mutant research? Yeah, but how much can you listen to rumours? I know Stark treats his specimens pretty well, but . . . well . . . I doubt Osborn is into vivisection and stuff. The laws are pretty lax regarding mutants, but they aren’t _that_ lax. If we can work out what causes the mutations, too, maybe we can even –”

“Cure them? There are more of us than you think, Peter. We don’t need ‘curing’.”

“I – er – didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Peter gave a sigh and sat upright. There were slight ripples across the water from the growing winds, which made the area almost feel alive and sentient, as if the waters were trying to communicate with him in some way, and Peter felt drawn to them more than was natural. He knew it was dangerous to get too close, unable to swim and always slightly afraid of anything deeper than a bathtub, but it was so beautiful and so alluring to the eyes.

He hoped Ava could forgive him for his momentary lapse of judgement, as he knew that – no matter how well ‘specimens’ were kept – mutants were still people first and foremost, and no one wanted to live in captivity simply so they could be studied. He didn’t know how many were-tigers were in the world, just as he didn’t know where the main communities lived or even what powers they held, but he knew that Ava was a full-blooded one and determined to carry on her line. He also knew one word of that aloud could condemn her.

“Thank you for the job,” whispered Peter.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ava gave a sigh. “I thought it’d be good to have the gang back together again; weird how life turns out, isn’t it? One of us goes, so another follows, soon we’re all together in one place. Plus . . . Gwen always dreamt of being here, didn’t she?”

Peter moved to sit by the edge of the water. He reached down with his left hand to play with the wet sands, enjoying how it felt to the touch and what a distraction it could be, but the engagement ring stood out and reminded him of all that was lost. It was a simple gold band, but dull from years of wear and tear, and his habit of turning it for comfort hadn’t helped keep it in good condition. The sand caught underneath it, but the bite only made him feel alive, as if the slight pain was something deserved. He knew it should have been him.

“Gwen would have been perfect for this job,” said Peter.

They remained quiet for a while, until Ava climbed to her feet and sat beside him. He admired how graceful she could look sitting cross-legged, especially with sand on her skin and a stray flower in her hair, and she stroked strange patterns across the water’s surface with elegant fingers. Peter ran a hand through his messy hair and looked sadly to the water, as he wondered just how much Ava grieved for her friend, too, and they shared in that pain.

“Well, Gwen wouldn’t slack off sunbathing,” admitted Ava.

“You mean she wouldn’t give into your bad influence.” Peter laughed. “I bet she would have loved to study mermaids, too, assuming there really is any around here. You’ve been here since graduation, right? Ever seen any of them lurking about?”

“Not once.” Ava splashed her face with the water. “Well, I took the gang to the beach to play some volleyball a while back, Danny acted as referee so we would have even teams, and MJ _swore_ she saw one watching us from over by the rocks. He had this scar over his eye, apparently, grey hair and yet kind of muscled, and he had this really silver tail. MJ says that he turned it and it blinded her, and – by the time she looked back – he was gone.”

“It could have just been a swimmer. I’ve seen a lot of people swimming out by the beach; I’ve sailed past a few times and even caught a few fishermen in here, so it’s not impossible someone had swam out to the rocks. I’m not a sceptic, honestly. I’ve seen records and analysis, but the last mermaid caught was – what – twenty years ago?”

“I heard they began to shun the surface, after we stole a few away.”

“Exactly, so what idiot would come out in full view?”

There came a breeze that turned the warmth into something cold. Peter still couldn’t get used to how temperamental British weather could be, so much that sometimes he went through four seasons in a day, and he envied that Osborn had based his operations over in New York. If it weren’t for his shady work ethics, he would have been the best person to work under. Peter missed his aunt more and more each day. A small part of him hoped – if Tony’s current research and endeavours could be sated – he might move location back to the States.

“Tony would kill for a specimen, though,” he admitted.

Ava looked at him with a dark expression. It felt like a moot point when most mermaids were rumoured to be off the coast of Denmark, with extremely few being found around the British Isles, but as people like Stark and Osborn advanced technology past its limits, the climate steadily changed along with society. It wasn’t impossible for mermaids to be around, but Peter felt it highly unlikely. He opened his mouth to argue, but Ava snapped:

“Don’t you dare, Parker.”

“I wouldn’t,” he replied. “I mean I’d be temped, but who wouldn’t? Imagine if we could work out how their gills worked, maybe uncover why the gills of unborn human foetuses disappear with development in the womb . . . we could uncover huge secrets of our evolution, maybe even alter human development so no one ever need drown again. It’s just a shame that comes at the cost of someone’s freedom, and who would volunteer to live in a cage?”

“No one.” Ava’s expression turned dark. “You grew up a scrawny nerd in New York, right? Blossomed in young adulthood, came straight over as an intern for Tony after graduation, and still the favourite relative of your favourite aunt . . . I don’t want to sound patronising, but you don’t know what it’s like. I’ve _met_ former ‘specimens’. It’s horrific.”

“I know some were treated like walking experiments, but others –”

“– were treated nicely? A cage is a cage, Peter.”

He watched as a dark blush crossed her features. It was a horrible feeling to see her so upset, because he dreaded to think how some of her kind – the rare few caught or discovered – would have been treated or discriminated against or even experimented upon. Ava knew things he could only imagine. Peter removed his outer coat, before he slid it over Ava’s shoulders and helped protect her from the cold. He let his blue eyes take in her sadness, before he tried a different approach, and spoke as gently as possible:

“Tony wouldn’t treat them badly.”

“It’s not a good life.” Ava huddled underneath the coat. “I don’t know about mermaids, but I’ve heard of werewolves and were-tigers being kept in tiny cells. They get food, bedding, some books, but it’s basically like being in prison. The ones that weren’t abused – or worse – were still expected to give blood, samples, observed at all times . . . I made MJ swear to silence, especially from her journalist pals, but some rumours are harder to squash.”

“I won’t say anything to Tony, but do you really think any would be around?” Peter began to twist at his ring. “Think of all the technology we have these days; Stark’s nearly found a renewable and permanent source of energy, one that doesn’t pollute and doesn’t cost any money to sustain, and yet we still can’t access the ocean floor. They’d be safe.”

“Safe for how long? Laws are changing, Peter, but they’re changing slowly. I hope as much as you do that – one day – mutants will get the same rights as humans, at which point maybe they will volunteer for testing, because they know they won’t have their rights violated, but until then it’s better they live in secrecy. If any are around here, maybe they’re young and don’t know the rules or maybe they think times have changed the humans up here, but they’ve made a mistake . . . they’ve underestimated human nature.”

Ava stood up slowly, before she slid her arms into the coat sleeves. It was just about the right size for her, which was embarrassing to admit, but they were roughly the same height and Peter had always veered towards the slim side of the spectrum. He noted it didn’t suit her all too well, as it was bulky and designed for practicality, but he didn’t mind her borrowing it when it looked like rain was soon on its way. The sky was already black.

“I better be going, Peter,” said Ava.

He looked up at her, as she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. The way she looked out across the waters made it clear she longed for something more, even if most people would kill for a job that enabled travel between two continents, and yet – as much as she travelled the world for Stark and Osborn – she always seemed to be longing for something beyond anything they could give to her. He wished Gwen were still around, as she always knew exactly what to say. Instead, he stayed silent and looked down to the waters below.

The waters were shallow by the sands, but went deep quite quickly. He cursed having never learnt to swim, as it would have been amazing to feel clean waters against his skin, but he instead took to watching the many fish as they flittered around near to the surface. One in particular caught his eye. It lingered somewhere further down, with strange markings and tears to its fins, and he wondered what new types of creatures he’d find in his research.

“You really have to leave?”

“Yeah, that meeting was postponed,” admitted Ava. “You honestly think I’d be sunbathing with work to do? Anyway, Bruce told me to remind you that he really needs those water samples, so not to forget the test tubes this time. See you at dinner?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sure. Seven at MJ’s place?”

“You got it, ‘Tiger’.”

Peter laughed warmly. He could easily see what Sam saw in MJ, as she had a fiery and passionate personality, one that leant itself to terms of endearment and great displays of affection, and – in another life – he could have fallen for her, too. It was what made her an excellent reporter, but that was also part of why Peter and Ava hid so much from her, as her desire for justice and truth often led her to revealing more to the world than she ought.

The fish suddenly began to disperse or run deeper, which caught his interest and made him fall back with a need to find his notepad, and – as he began jotting down notes – he realised that Ava was rolling her eyes and climbing back onto the beach proper. There was a wolf-whistle from nearby, which sounded like Sam teasing her, and he overheard some curses from her that backed that theory up pretty well. He shook his head and continued his writing, until he looked down and realised that exotic fish from earlier was still there.

It was pretty amazing to see, as it must have been absolutely huge to be seen from the surface, and yet he could only make out the majority of its tail. The orange colour verged on gold, although it was difficult to be sure when it was merged in darkness, but he could make out those stripes from earlier that looked almost like indentations on its skin, and the fins – almost impossible to see – were in ribbons and likely useless, and yet it was enchanting.

There was one word for it: beautiful.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

# Chapter Two

Cable watched Wade from afar.

The younger merman struggled to climb onto shore; the fins of his tail were shredded into thin strips, which prevented him from swimming, while the tail itself was scarred and pitted with holes, which stole away any lower body strength. It was a shame to see his former beauty gone to waste. The head that once bore rich and blond locks was now bald, as well as matted with a criss-cross of lines and a spattering of random marks, and those bulging upper muscles were covered in so many raised scars that they stood out like veins upon his skin.

Wade could only crawl whenever he wished to move unassisted. He either sank to the bottom or rose to the top, but – whether on land or on the seabed – he would use his arms to move to and fro with a speed that many able-bodied mermen would envy. He currently used his forearms to shimmy his way across the sands, before he collapsed next to his collections of seashells . . . shells whose meanings were undetectable even to Cable.

The sun shone down from its setting position, casting shadows about the small shore and yet reflecting light well from Wade’s less deformed scales, and they gave a gorgeous golden shimmer with each movement of Wade. The smooth patches and gnarled patches simply gave a dull sheen, more brass than gold, but the others sparkled almost like gemstones, and – as Cable watched him – he could understand why many less scrupulous humans would hunt their kind in the past. Wade rolled only his back, exposing all too human genitalia and an incredibly muscled chest, and Cable regretted their divorce in previous years.

“Yo, Nathan _Gesundheit_ Summers!”

Cable gave a long and heavy sigh. Wade waved a hand over to him, as if desperate for any form of attention, and it was difficult not to pity him for that exact reason. Cable dove back into the sea; the water was cool as he swam towards Wade, although the pressure was far less strong than on the seabed, and he was able to move his metallic tail with a skill of which no other merman could believe him capable. He paused near the jutting rock at the edge of the cove, before he came over to the edge of the shore and crawled into a sitting position.

“Hey, your fly’s down,” said Wade.

Out of habit, Cable looked down. The only thing in sight was his perfectly metallic tail, along with the exposed genitalia that was typical of their kind, and the water that clung to his lower body and sparkled in the sun with the many droplets. It felt good to feel the sun upon him again, although he felt far too vulnerable and exposed upon land, and he observed the cove with an odd detachment in the moments that followed. Wade’s laugh echoed about them.

“Can’t believe you fell for that,” teased Wade.

“Yes, highly amusing.” Cable looked darkly to Wade. “Wade, we need to talk. I can understand your desire to live apart from our people –” Cable paused upon hearing ‘ _my_ people’ only to continue “– but you must be aware how dangerous this lifestyle is to you.”

“It’s a fucking shore and what’s basically a pond,” muttered Wade. “If things get fishy – _get it, ‘fishy’_ – I can just drop down to the seafloor. _Plop_! Even the worst kind of human can’t breathe under water, right? It ain’t like I’d be crawling onto the beach, waiting for the tide to go down, and having no way of getting back to the ocean. I like it up here. The sun and the rain and the wind -! It feels good. You don’t get that down there.”

“Wade, this wasn’t a problem when the beach was private, but now it’s a public area and this cove in particular has attracted the attention of many a scientist. Do you see that building up there on that cliff? It belongs to one Tony Stark. He may be a noble figure, but he won’t hesitate to take you in for testing should he find you here.”

Cable pointed over the cliffs around them to one further afield, which was the highest point of the lands around them, and – directly upon the edge – sat a tall tower with surrounded by smaller establishments, all of which were designed for research and development. The windows on one side opened onto small balconies, that looked out over the ocean and the drop below into the sea, and – while the design was beautiful and used renewable energy – it was a constant reminder of the human influence on the environment around them.

It was difficult to convey the danger in English, but Cable trusted that Wade’s understanding was advanced enough to follow the implicit threat and implied request. Those brown eyes looked up to the tower, before they looked across the cove and took in the sights all around them, and – from afar – there came sounds of boats upon the waves and youngsters packing up their beach-gear to head home. They were not safe above the waves.

“Do you understand, Wade? You need to return home.”

“No, do _you_ understand, Nate?” Wade sat up and glared at him. “I can’t fucking _swim_ ; I look like a fucking jellyfish had sex with a pile of seaweed and I’m their diseased baby, but – oh wait – that same fucking baby can’t fucking swim! Do I look like I want to be a parasite? I don’t want to rely on you to get around! I don’t want to rely on anyone!”

“Wade, your situation has changed. You must accept that. We can accommodate you and we can make life comfortable for you, but isolating yourself out of shame or fear will not increase your quality of life in any way. I understand how you feel, but –”

“You don’t understand shit.” Wade clenched his fist until he drew blood. “You know how frustrating is to not even leave your room without help? I’m trapped in my own body. I have to crawl places or use someone like a crutch, and it ain’t a fun way to live, let me tell you that! Here no one gives me the look – _yeah, that exact one, Priscilla –_ like of pity and shame and fear all mixed up, and no one talks to me in that high-pitched voice, like I’m a child.”

“No one can talk to you at all,” countered Cable.

Wade fell back and let his brown eyes look upward. The sky was turning a shade of red that was incomparable to anything under the ocean, where very little was of mixed hues or held such a spectrum of colours, and Cable enjoyed the sight of blue bleeding into red and running into black. He remembered when they first met; aside from many fights and sparring contests, the one thing they most often did was to watch the stars come alive as night fell upon them. It was a strange feeling to be beside one another and share what was long lost.

There was a necklace next to Wade, which sat on top of the pile of shells, and Cable realised it could rival anything sold by their people beneath the waves. The jewellery below was as intricate and carved as anything on land, but – just as on land – there was also costume jewellery and folk jewellery, and Wade’s creation was much like the latter two, only displaying a great deal of talent for one often dismissed as without talent.

Cable reached out and took the necklace in hand; he felt around the dried seaweed and smooth shells, as he gave a small smile at Wade’s achievement, and he moved further towards the water to wet the fins of his tail. He splashed himself casually, unable to deal with how quickly the metal became dry, and often he wished for the same lack of sensation that came with Wade’s scarring, so that he could avoid the discomfort. Wade simply rolled onto his stomach further away, as he began to make a strange sort of sandcastle.

“You have great talent for crafting,” said Cable.

Wade struck him hard in the abdomen with his tail. It was painful, but more so for the roughness of his scarred scales and callused shreds of fins, and Cable resisted the urge to retaliate as Wade crawled away and sat against the cliff-face. He looked smaller and more fragile than usual, lost among the sands and tail pulled up to hide his private area, and he wrapped his arms around his tail much in a way that reminded Cable of many a human.

“It’s nothing,” replied Wade. “It certainly ain’t going to get me to go back.”

“Maybe not, but what is here to compel you to stay?”

“Ah, that age old tale! A guy meets a girl -! Well, a guy meets a guy in this case.” Wade gave a bright smile that made the sores on his mouth crack. “There’s this human that keeps showing up; I think he’s taking samples and watching the fish here, but he’s really cute and always seems really nice to his friends. He doesn’t seem like any other human.”

“Don’t let history repeat itself, Wade. They all seem nice until their true motives are made clear, especially those that are here for ‘science’. This man likely works for Tony Stark and that means he would take any living specimens he will find. You are worlds apart.”

Cable slid himself into the water. He heaved a sigh of relief, as the cool waters lapped against his scales and upper body, and soon he swam lazily into the centre of the cove. It was difficult to miss the shores, the skies, and the sun. The currents held a greater deal of freedom than anything above land ever could bring, and he could not understand Wade’s desire to be among creatures that had already proven their cruelty. Wade stretched by the cliff-wall.

He leaned forward and fell against the sands, which caused Cable to smile despite himself. It took longer than usual for Wade to crawl over the shore and reach the water, and – when he finally dipped himself into the depths – he emerged no further than when he began. Wade would not appreciate being helped without having asked for help, and so Cable merely watched as Wade struggled to pull himself closer. He splashed and flailed, often dipping beneath the water in the process, until he floated a few feet from Cable.

“They need to make these coves smaller,” muttered Wade.

“I will inform Mother Nature.” Cable smiled warmly. “I will simply warn you that any friendship could end with a broken heart, while anything more could end with a broken soul. Do not forget that you cannot live on land; your tail will dry up and you will suffer, just as your mobility will be even more hindered than now, and what of your ‘cute’ human?”

“Don’t talk to me like I have shit for brains, Summers. It ain’t like I’m going to fall head over tails for him, but – if he’s a giant douche – I can always sink to the floor and crawl to safety, won’t be like he can chase after me. I heard he can’t swim. Do you think I can wait for him to fall in and then rescue him? Oh, that’s be so dreamy! Imagine what we could tell the grandchildren? I can just imagine us now, sitting around the kitchen table.”

“That would be perfect, were you able to swim in turn to save him.” Cable held back a sigh. “Humans do not – and can not – trust mutants. You will find that he will be repulsed by your appearance, that he will not trust you for your nature, and he will hurt you.”

Wade leaned back and stuck Cable with his tail. It was a childish gesture; he would have been essentially slapped with Wade’s fins, were there any fins remaining, and he witnessed children many times use such gestures when they fought. The tail merely brushed inefficiently against Cable’s chest, as he watched with complete disinterest as Wade tried again to knock him down, but all Wade succeeded in doing was to go underneath the water, while his gills began to move rhythmically to keep him alive. Cable briefly closed his eyes.

“You are acting like a child,” he said. “Come back with me.”

The three gills on either side of Wade’s neck stilled, as he just about managed to keep his balance and stay above water, and – as he breathed through his mouth instead – the gills flattened and looked almost like the smooth skin of a human. The only tell that the gills existed were the way the scar tissue prevented several from fully closing, and Cable could not help except to feel a stab of guilt at the sight, as he tried to avert his gaze.

“You’re making this difficult, Wade,” said Cable.

“Do you know what a ‘divorce’ is?” Wade struggled to move back to shore. “It’s me not having to do everything you want . . . or me getting manipulated by you . . . or me watching you fuck around with other women. You want to me my friend? Fine. Respect my choice in wanting to stick around up here for a while. I ain’t leaving.”

“Ah, you mean Domino and Irene? I have apologised many a time for my actions, Wade, but you must know that – however I have acted in the past – the very last thing I wish is to see you suffer now in the present. Please, do not hurt yourself to spite me.”

Wade stuck out his tongue and climbed onto shore.

He moved with remarkable speed, considering he had only his upper arms to make such movement possible, and his tail occasionally struggled to make purchase along the sand to help him in his endeavour. Wade soon fell with heaving chest and flushed face next to his pile of trinkets, while he rested his arms and body from the exertion. It was difficult to believe that one merman could have endured so much, but Wade was stronger than many gave him credit. He was a survivor in many ways.

The younger merman began to trace patterns on the sand; it was visible from even Cable’s distance that it was the language of their people, written in a way that looked a strange mixture of Arabic and Hindi, and Cable envied his friend’s beautiful handwriting. It was difficult to believe that arms designed for fighting could also be capable of such an art, but Cable said nothing about the matter and simply watched as ‘Peter, hello’ came into view.

“I will continue to watch over you,” said Cable.

Wade said nothing, as he continued to write a message that no human could read. It was difficult to leave him, especially when Cable could sense great hardships to come, and any eyewitness account could result in Wade being hunted and dragged from the shore. He swam away and turned to look at his friend one last time; Wade looked so oblivious to any danger, so free from any concerns, and so happy in writing his message to his newfound human. He looked surprisingly childlike, all alone with only himself for company. Cable whispered:

“Good luck, my friend.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A full explanation of mermaid/merman reproduction and genitalia will come in chapter four. 
> 
> I know this chapter raises a few questions, but I didn't want to force an explanation at an unnatural point. Cable is highly familiar with their biology, so it wouldn't make sense for him to dwell on it or to explain it to someone who already knows, as such the full details will come a little later on. Thank you for your patience :)


	3. Chapter 3

# Chapter Three

“Peter, there’s nothing here.”

Tony shielded his eyes with an open palm. He stood on top of the rocks, off to the side of the cove that joined with the beach, and somehow managed to make even a casual pose look almost regal in practise. It probably helped that he technically owned the area; while he may have opened the beach and cove to the public, the reality was that they were his on paper, and so there was a confidence – borderline arrogance – that bled through his every gesture.

He wore just a loose t-shirt, emblazoned with the name of an old rock band, and his jeans looked loose enough that they could fall off at any moment. The grease on his arm made it clear that he hadn’t long stepped out of the laboratory, while his mussed up hair made it equally as obvious that he probably hadn’t slept in some days, and – much to Peter’s amusement – he spotted something written in red ink over Tony’s left forearm: ‘eat or you’ll regret it later’. It was something that sounded more menacing than Bruce or Pepper probably intended, but at least Tony couldn’t miss it when it was written onto him.

Peter gave a nervous smile and climbed down into the cove.

He looked up to Tony, who seemed as indifferent as always to nature. It took a lot to convince him to leave the tower, let alone to come to the cover directly, and – now he finally had his friend and boss in place – he was reluctant to let him leave. The weather was finally warm for once, with a nice breeze giving some relief from the sunlight, and Peter had woken up for the first time in months without the ache of grief for Gwen’s loss. He felt a renewed sense of passion. Gwen would have wanted him to investigate further; it was that simple.

“I’m not saying they _are_ here, Tony –”

“So I’m here because -?” Tony rolled his eyes. “Look, if you can find me a mutant, that’d be great. Frankly, I could do with some leverage on Osborn, but I’ve got a schedule that’s busier than my social life, which – as you know – is a _lot_. I don’t have time to be turning sand into toe-jam, you get me? Just call me when something new crops up.”

“It’s not my job to ‘find you a mutant’.” Peter ran a hand over his face. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t be a great thing for science to get a specimen, but there’s too many ethical and moral issues involved. I just want to begin by maybe communicating with –”

“Look, how old are you now, kid? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?” Tony gave a half-smile. “I get that kind of enthusiasm, honestly, because I’ve broken plenty of rules myself to get where I am today. You ever get pulled into court and have people demand to hand your tech over? I have. It’s like free publicity . . . pretty useful, really. Anyway, when you get to a certain age, you got to learn when to put up and when to shut up. Just take the samples, okay?”

Peter dropped the cases in his hand onto the sand. It wouldn’t take long to collect the water samples, along with other items requested by Tony, and it would probably take longer to process them back in the laboratory than anything else, but at least Bruce made for good company and had a pretty decent sense of humour. Still, there was a burning sense of frustration. Just to be able to _communicate_ with potential mermaids could further research considerably, and they might be able to teach something to the mermaid community in turn.

He knew that his main job was to research the effects of the dam on the local wildlife, but with Mary Jane’s eyewitness account and Ava’s rumours . . . it was just a shame he couldn’t tell Tony about either in order to help convince him the ‘possibility’ was more than likely. Peter sat down on the sand, where he began to unbuckle the cases and take out his equipment, but his heart raced furiously in his chest and he felt his mouth run dry. He asked:

“When was the last time _you_ ‘shut up’?”

Tony let out a laugh that was oddly charismatic. There was something in the tone that spoke of a loss of inhibition, as if he had been drinking again that morning, but Peter knew better than to bring up that subject. The older man simply scratched at his goatee, before he turned his back on Peter and looked back out over the beach. He stood for a long moment, simply basking in the feeling of the sun on his back and the breeze at his front, before he waved a hand almost dismissively at Peter and jumped down onto the beach proper.

“See this?” Tony called out. “This is me walking away.”

Peter watched until Tony disappeared from sight; he was a personality that often took time to appreciate, some even saying he was a ‘love or hate’ individual, and at times like these it was easy to see how Tony could alienate other people. Peter sighed and looked down to the ring on his hand. It was filled with so many memories, but in particular the party after high-school graduation where he and Gwen exchanged their rings at the restaurant, right in front of their families.

He tried to focus on listening to the waves against the beach. The familiar sound was a comfort to him, although he could only think about how it should have been Gwen there and not him, and soon the incoming tide sounded like a dangerous roar. It made him tighten his grip on the ring, until he could feel the skin around his finger and thumb indent with the pressure, and all the while his heart raced faster and faster. Gwen interned with Osborn. Gwen applied for college in England. Gwen was the one seeking to work for Tony.

Peter felt the tears well behind his eyes.

It was years since her death, yet it still felt so real and the guilt was so strong. The beating of his heart became louder and louder, until he could no longer hear anything else, and the tides may as well have been his coursing blood. He pulled off the ring; it exposed a pale tan line, a reminder of how long he had lived with Gwen in the shadow of his life, and he felt the walls of the cove begin to close in around him. He couldn’t make Tony listen, but it felt like Gwen’s dream died with that same refusal, and – he realised – he wasn’t fighting for himself, but for her. It was his dream he wanted to keep alive.

He threw the ring into the water.

There was a brief splash, followed by a dozen of ripples that spread across the surface, and then nothing but an absolute silence. Peter heard nothing. The racing of his heart seemed to still, while the waves nearby slowed to a natural crawl, and he felt strangely both free and shackled all at once. He couldn’t live his life according to Gwen’s ambitions and passions, but living life according to his own needs and desires -? It felt strange. It felt like he was letting her go, but letting her go meant a life without her. He wasn’t ready for that.

“Bad day, sweetums?”

Peter jumped back at the voice.

He felt a surge of adrenaline course through him, as panic set in at being suddenly confronted by an unknown person, and – as he clutched at his chest and breathed deeply – he finally looked over to the rock in the sea entrance to the cove. It took his eyes a moment to adjust. He was still sprawled across the sand, with grains now clinging to every crevice of his clothing, but he could just about make out a man lying against the rock.

“Why so quiet?” The man pouted. “Is my English that bad?”

“Er – n-no, not at all. No.”

Peter squinted – regretting not having brought his glasses with him – and saw the man clearly as could be possible with the sun directly behind him. It gave him an oddly ethereal glow. He was already built like a body-builder or athlete, with muscles bulging and body incredibly toned, and the sunlight only added to his exceptional appearance. The only thing that perhaps dampened his appearance were the many scars; they covered his entire torso, arms and head, so that even the hair itself no longer grew through, and it was likely his legs were the same.

He stood to his feet and looked at the man. It looked like he was dangling his legs in the water behind the rock, while he clung to the natural formation from behind, and he rested his head upon his forearms whenever he wasn’t pulling himself upright onto his hands, leaning out very much like a certain Disney princess that Gwen used to love. Whoever this was, they certainly had a lot of energy and struggled to keep still. Peter couldn’t take his eyes away.

“Still staring? I ain’t that ugly, am I?”

“W-what? No. No!” Peter blushed and backed away. “Quite the opposite. I was just thinking that you must work out a lot. I – er – kind of envy you. I don’t so much as swim as I do sink, so it must be nice to take to the water so naturally. You look – ah – handsome?”

“Now I know you’re lying! My skin looks like a badly fried egg.”

“There’s more to beauty than just skin, isn’t there?”

Peter realised what he said and fell to the sand. It felt absolutely embarrassing to be caught staring at a local swimmer, more so to be complimenting him, and downright humiliating to have that same person think they were being mocked for their scars. Peter felt a stab of curiosity, but there was no way that he could ask such a personal question as how they became the way that they looked. He swallowed hard and looked back over nervously, as he ran his hand over the back of his neck and through his hair with an awkward smile.

“My – my name’s – my name’s Peter Parker,” he stuttered.

The man leaned forward so as to rest his torso flat against the rock, before he leaned his head upon the top of it and stared over with incredibly brown eyes. They were stunning and expressive, so much so that they reflected the man’s slight nervousness and a great deal of excitement, and Peter was forced to bite his lip at a stab of attraction. The only person he had experienced any intimacy was Gwen, so to be confronted with a half-naked man – soaked with water and displaying a great deal of muscle – was enough to make his mouth water. It was simply fortunate that the man failed to notice his discomfort.

“Peter? Really?” The man smiled brightly. “My name’s Wade!”

“W-Wade? That’s – that’s a nice name.”

“Seriously? That’s the best reply you got? You’re so cute, Petey!”

Wade let out a loud and expressive laugh; it echoed through the cove and filled up the space beautifully, while the waters between them felt like an entire world’s difference, and Peter – as he mentally berated himself for being so cheesy – almost missed as Wade asked:

“So what was with you throwing that ring?”

“Oh – ah – that?” Peter rubbed at his hand. “It’s a long story, nothing I’d feel comfortable sharing with a stranger, but . . . well . . . it was my girlfriend’s. We exchanged rings after graduation, thought we’d get married, but when does life ever pan out the way that you plan? I’ve been wearing it ever since, but . . . I don’t know . . . I guess it was time to let go.”

“Did she die? My girlfriend died.” Wade gave a sad pout. “I worked as a soldier, down – er – south . . . yeah, south . . . I’ll say south! Anyway, by the time it went to head back home -? Turned out she’d died. I got married since then, but the guy turned out to be a total douche nozzle, except – you know – douches at least have their uses. It sucks when you lose a person, though. It’s like losing a part o’ your soul. Sorry for your loss, pal!”

“That’s it? No speeches on how it’s better to have loved and lost -? Usually, I get a bunch of empty platitudes and ‘I understand’ from people. It makes you just want scream sometimes. You just want to ask ‘how can you know’? No one knows. It’s so painful.”

“People are the worst, trust me. You ever get ‘it’ll get easier’?”

“Yeah, all the time, but it never does get easier, does it?”

“Nope. It just sort of scars over and goes numb.”

Peter smiled despite himself. He got up and walked further along the shore, until he reached the entrance of the beach, and – as he moved – he noticed that Wade moved with him. It was as if he were purposely circling the rock in the cove waters, as if he sought to desperately hide his legs from sight, and he blushed at the idea that maybe Wade had gone skinny dipping. It was possible, as the cove was out of sight and awkward to reach by foot, while he had yet to come out of the waters and it was rare for people to swim so early in the morning. Peter asked:

“So – er – swim here often?”

It was difficult to read Wade’s expression. He looked caught between laughing and crying, until the silence was eventually broken by outright laughter. Peter couldn’t help except bristle. He looked to the beach behind him, worried people may stop and stare, but even the earliest early birds were yet to wake up and the place was deserted. He turned back to see Wade wiping away a tear, before he caught sight of an odd mark on Wade’s neck, like a horizontal slit. Wade clapped a hand over it, leaning ‘casually’ on the rock, as if Peter had never seen it to begin with, and he gave Peter no chance to ask about it.

“Seriously, Petey?”

“W-what?”

“You might as well ask what a nice sea is doing swimming in a guy like me,” teased Wade. “Is that right? I don’t know. I just know that I practically live here. I ain’t really got anywhere else to go, but it ain’t all bad, am I right? What about you? Why are you here?”

“Gwen – my girlfriend – always wanted to come to England.” Peter smiled and shrugged. “I guess I thought that I’d be able to keep her memory alive by coming here, maybe find some closure in living out her dreams, but it’s just . . . it’s not worked out. I feel emptier than usual. It’s like I’m living in her shadow and constantly thinking of her, and I can’t even remember the last time I did something that I wanted or dated someone I liked or -!”

He gave a sigh and clasped his hands behind his neck. He looked up to the sky and watched as the clouds slowly passed by, each a shade of grey that made it clear rain was on its way, and it started to worry him that he had become pretty adept at reading clouds. There was a time when he would have felt sadness that he couldn’t share such thoughts with Gwen, but now he felt a need just to share them with _someone_ . . . it was difficult to tell whether that was a betrayal of their love or a natural part of moving on. Peter gave a sad smile.

“She always wanted to find mermaids,” said Peter.

“Mermaids, huh? That’s weird.” Wade crinkled his nose. “Do you ever think how cold it must be on the ocean floor? If I were a mermaid, it’d be too warm and uncomfortable to keep coming up to the surface. I’d want to stay hidden. Plus, why would I speak English, too? I wouldn’t be able to talk to no broad. It’d be a total waste of time.”

“Well, fact is that mermaids have still been spotted. I have this theory climate change is pushing them over to the British Isles, as – last I heard – they’ve only ever been spotted around the Scandinavian and Nordic countries. Maybe they could learn English?”

“Maybe they could learn English, but how’d they do that? You think some handsome guy like you would spend his time on a beach just talking to some random mermaid? How often does that happen?” Wade gave a big grin. “Plus, maybe it ain’t climate change that’s moved them. Maybe they’ve always been around these parts, too, but one them has gone rogue, so the others are following him about to get him to go home.”

Wade was oddly intelligent; he seemed to find counter-arguments to every possibility, which included the migration of mermaids to other lands, and – if they really did reside in these waters naturally – it made Peter wonder if they were as diverse as humans, living worldwide with their own cultures and customs. There were a few more splashes behind Wade, as if he were kicking at the water, and his childlike nature seemed at odd with his astute observations, which only added to the fascination that Peter felt.

“Have you ever seen any mermaids around here?”

“Unfortunately,” muttered Wade. “Why? You want to see them?”

“I don’t know. I’d love to be able to learn from them; I want to know about their cultures and languages, but also about their biology and how that can be used to help humans, and maybe we can teach them about humans so they can learn from us in turn.” Peter smiled warmly. “I know that mutants suffer a lot of abuse, so I wouldn’t want to force one to talk to me or help my research in any way, but . . . well . . . I don’t know. What about you?”

“I’d rather spend my time getting to know humans.” Wade shrugged. “Why spend your time chasing after other people when you got something good right in front of you? You’re cute, Petey! You’re also nice. I like that you ain’t a bad guy like the others. Say, I know this area pretty well! I could show you around. I could tell you all about it. I could -!”

‘ _Peter, you lurking around here? Stark said you were here_!’

The voice sounded like Ava. Peter turned to see her walking along the beach; her feet were bare and her sandals were in her hand, while her skirt and shirt made it clear that she’d just come from a conference call, and he noticed that she was smiling more than usual. He would usually love to hear her gossip and information, but today he just wanted to spend a few minutes longer alone with this new man, already curious about him and the area. It was just unfortunate – on turning back – Wade looked deathly pale and seemed to shiver.

“I got to go,” muttered Wade.

“Huh? N-no! Don’t go on Ava’s account, please!” Peter blushed and waved his hands. “I – I don’t get to meet new people often, especially locals, so – so – so please stay? At least come back later? I would love to get to know you better, Wade.”

“Tomorrow, okay? I got to go, Petey, honestly!”

“It’s okay, really, I just –”

Wade dropped down into the waters. It couldn’t be described as a dive, not really, as there was no splash or deliberate movement, but simply a man slipping away from a rock and falling back into the waters below. It was disconcerting; Peter wanted to dive in after him, only he couldn’t swim and wasn’t dressed for the water, and he knew just how deep the waters went from their reputation and his research. A man could easily drown down there.

He watched as long as he could, desperate to see air bubbles or the man re-emerge, but there was nothing. There wasn’t even so much as any sign he ever existed. Peter thought about calling out to Ava, maybe seeing if there was a lifeguard on duty or calling for the coastguard, but that was when he caught sight of something far off. It was enough to make him rethink their entire conversation, enough to make him doubt his sanity, and enough to make him almost believe in the impossible. He saw a metallic tail.

Wade couldn’t be -. He couldn’t possibly know -.

MJ’s story to Ava came flooding back, about how she saw a mermaid and how real they were, but there was little time to think about things in any detail, as already Ava had dropped into the cove and looked around with a curious gaze. He couldn’t pay her too much attention, not when he was still looking out for his new companion, but he could feel her come beside him and follow his gaze into the waters, as if she could see what he couldn’t see.

“Peter? Ah, there you are,” chirped Ava.

Peter gave a weak smile. It would be rude to ignore her, but he couldn’t help feel a stab of disappointment that Wade had left as soon as he appeared. Peter fought back a sigh and looked away, which is when he saw it: the message in the sand. He quickly scrambled through his cases for his camera, desperate to take a photo, as the strange writing was so close to the collection of shells and the seaweed necklace, and clearly they all belonged to the same person. It had to be Wade; it just had to be. Ava leaned over him and gave a sigh.

“What’d I miss?” Ava asked.

“Everything,” he answered.

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

# Chapter Four

Peter looked down at the sand.

The writing that was there just yesterday – so fluid and so beautiful – was washed away by heavy rains during the night, so that all that was left were the pile of seashells and the strange necklace made from seaweed and shells. Peter felt a sense of relief that he had taken a photograph of the unknown message. It would take a long time to decipher; it was also possible that it might never be deciphered, much like the Egyptian hieroglyphics that were a mystery for so many years, until a gift from god was found in the form of the Rosetta stone.

He gave a sigh and sat down; the swimming shorts felt uncomfortable, while he felt almost naked in just an old white t-shirt, but he bore it out due to the suspicion that he might end up getting wet at some point. There was no knowing how mermaids communicated, just as he had no idea whether Wade would want him to get into the water, but he swore that he would make the effort and meet the other man midway. He just needed to be patient.

“Come on, Wade. Where are you?”

The sky was cloudy overhead, while the breeze was loud and whistled about the cove, and there was no doubt in Peter’s mind that a storm was on its way. He brought only his phone and a set of keys, no umbrella and no coat, and he felt the chill against his skin, which prickled with goosebumps and paled with the temperature. There were many waves across the waters, brought by the winds, and Peter began to suspect that Wade wouldn’t show. He watched the waters intently, desperate to see a sign of something . . . _anything_.

“Wade, are you around? Please?”

‘ _I’m here, I’m here_!’

There was a splash from beside the rock in the cove entrance. It looked like Wade was drowning, as he struck out at almost random points and struggled to maintain a balance, but soon he smacked a hand against the rock and caught himself. He looked flushed in the face, as if he had run a marathon. Peter smiled to see him, although he could see how Wade moved strangely, as if trying to keep himself afloat, and he felt curious to see the rest of him.

“You’re a mermaid, aren’t you?”

Wade cringed a little and moved back, as if he were trying to hide or work out whether to swim away from Peter. The scars on his arms looked more prominent, as his arms bulged in their attempt to keep grip on the rock, and Peter wondered whether they gave him any pain or discomfort in any manner. There was something almost like shame in his brown eyes, but it ran deeper than that and was difficult to fully comprehend. Peter took a step towards the waters, letting them brush against his bare toes, before he stepped back from fear of falling.

“You figured that out quick,” muttered Wade.

“I began to suspect pretty quickly,” admitted Peter. “It was the writing you left in the sand that convinced me, though. I ran it through some computer programmes and it doesn’t look any known language, but was so beautiful . . . I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You ain’t afraid? I got a pal that thinks you’d flip.”

“You aren’t the first mutant I’ve met.”

Peter sat down at the water’s edge, where he let his legs rest against the steep incline of sand, and he relished in the feeling of the cool water that reached his knees. It refreshed him. He never visited a beach growing up, never so much as waded in a river, and to be on an island surrounded by coasts was a novelty unlike any other. He looked over at Wade and signalled him to come closer, but the man stayed put and shook his head.

“My friend’s a were-tiger,” admitted Peter.

“No shit? That’s awesome!”

“Well, she doesn’t think so.” Peter gave a sigh. “I might not know what it’s like to live a secret life, but I know how important it is to keep that secret. Honestly, I thought I’d want to get to know you because you were a mermaid, but – well – I think I just want to get to know you because of _who_ you are, you know? Ava’s the one you ran away from yesterday, but I feel the same way with her. I don’t see a were-tiger when I look at her –”

“You only see a person, not the mutant?” Wade gave a loud laugh. “You got to be telling the truth, because no one alive is that corny! You’d make a good merman, though, or is that mermaid? I can never remember. You know you have a stupid language, right? You sure you won’t freak out when you see me? I ain’t exactly a beauty.”

“Y-you – you – er – you seem handsome enough to me. I just – I just worried maybe your scars were hurting you, that’s all, as it looks like you were maybe . . . in an accident? You hear such awful stories about what happens to mutants sometimes, so . . .”

“Aw, my Petey thinks I’m handsome? You need glasses, sweetums!”

“I actually do, but I left them at home. It’s a vanity thing.”

Peter smiled at how ironic it must have sounded. He was willing to hinder his quality of life, just to make a better first impression on people, whereas here was a man unable to adjust his appearance in the least, even if he still retained a lot of positive traits. Peter held out his arm to gesture Wade closer, and – with a great deal of luck and patience – Wade soon moved towards him. There was a great deal of struggling; he didn’t move as Peter expected a mermaid to move, but instead shuddered and fought the water, like a drowning man.

It took him a good few minutes to reach shore, by which point he looked exhausted. Wade panted for breath and let his upper body rest on the sand, while his lower body hung beneath the waters, and – with a huge surge of effort and strength – he wrenched himself from the waters and crawled by his forearms next to Peter. It was amazing to watch, particularly when he dropped onto his stomach and rested his head on his cheek to stare up at Peter.

His tail was the only thing that looked . . . wrong.

The scales were broken away in places, leaving shiny patches that looked almost plastic, and they looked painful and exposed. The fins were in no better condition; they were slashed into shreds and ribbons, leaving no means to push against the water or help in turning, and all over were scars of various shapes and sizes. A part of Peter – a horrible and shameful part – was reminded of a foreign dish, where the fish was partially eaten when alive and then thrown back into the tank to be finished later. He shuddered and asked quietly:

“What happened to your tail?”

It was heartbreaking to look upon. Peter was tempted to reach out and touch it, but he could see the humiliation and terror written across Wade’s face in equal measure and thought better of such a thing. He pulled himself up to sit cross-legged, as he turned to face Wade directly. The other man lifted his tail a few times, almost as if to prove he could still move it, and gave a weak smile that showed more emotion than any words could ever express.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” said Wade.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Peter frowned. “It looks painful.”

“It’s a long story, baby boy! It’ll take like – what – three chapters to fully explain? I don’t want to put you through that yet and -!” Wade furrowed his brow at what must have been a very confused expression on Peter’s face. “What’s that look about? I say something wrong?”

“N-no, it – it must be a problem in translation. ‘Chapters’?”

“Got to break that fourth wall at least once!”

Peter gave a heavy sigh. He looked over Wade and saw the outlines of gills upon his neck, as well as the swell to where buttocks would be on a human, and he wondered whether their cultural differences would end up the biggest obstacle between them. There was no time to ask such a question, as it was then he noticed something odd: his ring. It encircled Wade’s pinkie finger, almost as if it had always been there, and it was almost certainly the exact same ring that Peter had thrown into the waters the day before. He stopped and asked:

“Hey! Is that my ring?”

There was a strange fidgeting motion from Wade, as if he were trying to move the sand to make an indent for his body, and he pouted like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, which was something that made Peter smile. Wade pulled his hand underneath his chin, where he rested his cheek upon it, and it was almost like he had already ascribed some sort of deeper meaning to it, something beyond Peter and personal to him.

“You weren’t wanting it,” mumbled Wade.

“No, it’s okay.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “It – er – suits you. I threw it away, mostly because it was time I moved on and found some closure, and I don’t mind if you liked it and want to keep it. It’s almost like she’s living on through – _oh my god, you’re naked_!”

Peter threw his hands over his eyes.

Wade had rolled onto his back mid-sentence; it wasn’t long enough for Peter to get a real look, but it was just long enough for him to see everything that he hadn’t even thought about seeing, which was a huge shock to the system. He didn’t even realise mermaids _had_ genitalia. There was a sort of v-shape on Wade’s body, so that his scales and tail started high above his hips, but they came to a point just underneath where male genitals would exist on a human, as if someone had designed a pornographic version of _The Little Mermaid_.

It was almost bizarre to see, as there were no legs and the tail looked perfectly normal from behind, so that it covered the ‘buttocks’ completely, but the front was a different matter. The penis itself looked as scarred as the rest of Wade, even a little shrivelled and small, but the testicles underneath were large enough to almost compensate. Peter tried to peak between his fingers, to see if Wade had rolled back, but he still lay there exposed.

“C-can’t you cover up?” Peter asked.

“Why should I do that?”

“How about that it’s _indecent_!”

“Oh, please!” Wade rolled his eyes. “It’s a fucking penis. You got one, too, ain’t ya? It’s just something you piss from and occasionally tug for fun, but it ain’t as though I’m tugging it right in front o’ you or something. It’s no different from an arm or a face. The only reason it’s ‘indecent’ is because you say it’s indecent. You’re dirty-minded, Petey!”

“I – I am not! Look, they’re called ‘private parts’ for a reason. They’re supposed to be private! Do you ever see people just walking about without clothes? Even when we swim we keep covered up. Those parts – well – they’re just . . . sexual by nature.”

“That’s bullshit. I’ve seen your women cover up their breasts, too, but what’s sexual about those? If you think pieces of muscles designed to give babies milk to survive is ‘sexual’, well I sure as hell ain’t going to give much respect to your concept of ‘modesty’ as a whole. Cable tried to explain all this to me once, I called bullshit on him, too. You get sexual _acts_ , even sexual _responses_ , but a penis is just a penis unless you do something to it.”

Peter dropped his hands onto his lap, as he lowered his head in embarrassment. It was something he regretted quite soon, as he caught sight of Wade’s penis yet again, and was forced to shoot his eyes in another direction. He had never stared so intently at someone’s eyes before, but he couldn’t help but feel a flush all over his body and a slight stab of arousal at being so close to a handsome, wet, naked man. He positioned his hands to hide any evidence of a possible erection, as he tried to make conversation as naturally as possible.

“So you guys . . . live naked?”

“Well, a lot of people like jewellery.” Wade smiled. “It’s pretty.”

“Yes, but your genitalia and breasts are exposed?” Peter shook his head. “I – I guess it makes things less taboo, if they’re on show, I suppose . . . like, if it’s not forbidden then you don’t crave it in unhealthy ways, right? S-still, why – why do you even _need_ a penis? Don’t you guys just . . . well . . . lay eggs and fertilise them or something?”

Wade rolled his eyes and threw his arms above his head. There was a tiny tuft of hair underneath each of his armpits, although it looked blonde, and Peter wondered whether Wade was a natural blond, especially as ‘that part’ of him lacked any kind of pubic hair. He blushed at the thought and tried to look away, but there was nowhere else to look aside from Wade’s eyes, because ‘that’ was still on display. Wade seemed more annoyed by his words than actions, however, as he laid his head down upon his hands and snapped:

“Do I _look_ like a fish to you?”

“Well, no, but I just –”

“Okay, time for Fish Ed 101,” said Wade. “First up, I _ain’t_ a ‘mermaid’ . . . I think. Your language gets pretty confusing; we don’t have a real concept of gender like you do, so our languages don’t have these differences, but Cable tells me that it’s ‘merman’ for the guys and ‘mermaids’ for the girls! Actually, that was a _bitch_  to try and explain, because we don’t even have words for ‘guys’ and ‘girls’. It’s just ‘person’.”

“Doesn’t that get confusing? I mean, what about when it comes to telling people apart, like in books or films or stories? Surely, you need words to know what a person is and how they look?” Peter frowned in confusion. “How would you know what to expect?”

“If what you expect changes based off gender, you’re just a prick.” Wade shrugged. “Our people ain’t like you; we have good people and bad people, but that’s about it and there ain’t bad ‘men’ or ‘women’, because they’re people first and foremost. It’s hard to explain in English, but – basically – if your opinion of a person changes based off what they got going on below, you’re just a douche. Like in stories and books -! If you write your character differently based on what they’re packing -? Douche! People are people.”

It was a difficult concept to grasp. Peter knew well that other cultures had multiple genders, beyond the binary, and even in western society such ideas were finally beginning to gain acceptance, so he had met many people outside of the so-called ‘norms’, but he had never come across a culture with no concept of gender at all. He wondered whether it was even possible, as he suspected biology would surely influence instincts.

“That’ll take a while to get used to,” he admitted.

“Yeah, I know that feeling.” Wade smiled. “I like our language: it’s simple. Anyway, it’s weird, because – at one point in our history – men and women were totally segregated and lived in separate societies . . . we used to think we were separate species. No one ever fought or anything, but it was only a couple o’ thousand years back that people started to integrate, because we always assumed that mermaids were like different or something.”

“I’m going to regret asking this, aren’t I?” Peter drew in a deep breath. “How could your two societies survive, if you were totally separated and segregated? Don’t you need one another to reproduce? You’d have died out otherwise, right?”

“What? Nah! That’s why our ancestors thought we were two species, actually.” Wade gave a bright smile. “The mermen look like me, but what you _don’t_ see is that we have this scale on our behinds – _right here, look, see!_ – it’s kind of like what a snake does, according to Cable, so maybe that’ll help you picture it. You know how the oesophagus has that flap thing, so you can both breathe and eat? Well, we have something like that. You can make waste come out, but you can also get a baby to go in and out. So we can use other men to reproduce.”

Peter struggled to keep up with the explanation. He felt an insane amount of relief that Wade was now on his front, which hid his member from sight, but he was still pointing to a few scales on his behind that looked slightly different from the rest. It was very subtle, but Peter noticed the way they moved almost imperceptibly, with a very minute change in shade, and he imagined they slid away or opened up with arousal. Peter blushed bright.

He waited until Wade pulled his hand away, where he let it drop in a grabbing motion far above his head, and he played with the sand in a strange and almost disinterested way, until Peter cleared his throat and he looked back over. It was perhaps the wrong thing to do, as Wade was immediately on his back and leaned on his forearms, and it exposed his privates again in a manner that made Peter yelp and look away. Peter shielded the side of his head with the palm of his hand, while he ignored the way Wade laughed at him.

“What about the women?”

“I guess they’re the same, but in reverse,” explained Wade with a smile. “Well, like, their fronts are all covered up, like our behinds are, but _their_ behinds are all exposed and you can see both their holes for waste and reproduction. The front part has a scale like ours, where they can both urinate and shoot out seed, because there’s a bit that pops out from there. Do snakes do that, too? I’ve never really seen a snake. Anyway, so they don’t need us, either.”

“It must have a fascinating effect on how sexuality is perceived,” mused Peter. “You basically have two genders, who can reproduce among themselves and have a history of segregation, now united and able to socialise freely. Do you have words for things such as ‘gay’ or ‘straight’, ‘bisexual’ or ‘pansexual’? Or is it all the same?”

“We have people just attracted to one set of genitalia, or both, or none. We have all sorts of people, but we don’t have words for any of them. You just . . . like what you like, you know? If you say to someone ‘I ain’t into that’, no one would get pissy about it or anything.”

“That must be nice.” Peter smiled. “I still haven’t come out about being bi.”

“Humans have hang-ups about that, then?”

The question was spoken out of sheer curiosity. Peter let it sink in, as he listened to the teenagers playing volleyball on the beach and heard the sound of boat motors not too far away, and it felt strange to talk about humanity while humanity was all around him. It was a surreal sensation, like talking about people behind their backs, but he simply gave a sad smile and let himself relish in the stray few raindrops that were starting to fall.

“A few do, yeah.”

“Can you tell me about humans?”

Wade leaned into him, with an expression bright and innocent. It was a surprise that he hadn’t heard all about humans already, especially from the person that seemed to have told him about snakes reproduction, and it was bizarre that Wade could have been told about the world above except for human nature in general. Peter smiled back at him, realising that Wade’s excitement was almost contagious, and he moved a little closer out of instinct, before he realised that his toes were now brushing against those strangely cool scales.

“I hope you have a while,” said Peter.

“I got all day, baby boy.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

# Chapter Five

“You’re kidding, right?”

Peter looked across to Sam and MJ.

They sat on a ling sofa opposite him in the break-room; it was a large and spacious area, overlooking the sea outside with floor-to-ceiling windows, and there was even a balcony outside where one could look directly down into the waves. It allowed for a relaxing sound of waves against the cliffs, almost rhythmic and hypnotic, and occasionally the wind and rain would clash against the glass, leaving intricate patterns as the water fell down its surface.

The room itself was pretty minimalist and white everywhere. Two walls composed of nothing but windows that began about waist-high, so that anyone in the corridors outside could see the occupants within, while the other wall – not overlooking the sea – held a large television set that was set only to various news stations. There were several vending machines, even a small kitchen area that was too close to the bathroom door than Peter liked, and a buffet area on the opposite end of the room. It had everything they could have needed.

MJ looked pretty in a casual outfit, dressed in a leather coat and tight jeans, and it was part of what made him envy the life of a journalist. He had been forced to dress lately in waterproof summer-wear, while his best friend was able to look like a supermodel, and yet he kind of felt a stab of annoyance that she had to be visiting Sam during their lunch-break. He loved her dearly, but he knew her passion for equality would make her want to make the matter public.

“No, I’m being serious,” said Peter.

“This – this is _huge_ , Peter!” MJ ran a hand through her red hair. “This is the kind of thing that could really help the mutant community; think about getting first-hand accounts, about putting a face to name, about learning what it _means_ to be a mutant. If we can get their story out there, we can use it as a platform to push for equal rights. We can –”

“MJ, no offence, but this is why we didn’t want to tell you,” interrupted Ava. “Peter’s been seeing Wade for about a week now; I was able to meet the guy a few days back, he’s pretty decent and there’s a lot to learn form him, but you are _not_ making him go public.”

“I’m not going to force the issue. You act as if I would put him on television without his permission! Look, I’m here as Jameson’s foreign correspondent, so this is the exact kind of thing that’s in my job description, and I’d be an absolute fool not to try and push for the matter to get some sort of representation in the media. It’s more than just work, though. I was sent to Italy a few weeks back, where the remains of a mutant washed ashore . . .”

There was no need for MJ to continue. Sam looked down with a sad kind of expression, while Ava paled considerably and looked away, and the realisation that mutants could be captured and used so severely – with no repercussions to the perpetrators – made Peter feel sick to his stomach. He felt it churn and burn, until he was forced to hunch over on the sofa where he sat, and Ava remained standing beside him as a source of support. The room suddenly felt cold, as the air conditioner whirred loudly in the background of their conversation.

“The laws _need_ to change,” said MJ sadly. “We improved the rights of women. We improved the rights of the African-American community. We have a long way to go – sure – but people can vote, marry, or hold a job . . . why can’t we do the same thing for mutants, too? Okay, so maybe you weren’t going to tell me. I can accept that, but I still think it’s a good job I came to visit Sam when I did, because now I know. Now why can’t I _do_ something?”

“Did it _ever_ occur to you that you could fight for the rights of mutants, but _without_ outing mutants in the process?” Ava rolled her eyes. “You can’t just throw someone out the closet because you think that they ought to be proud. The world’s a dangerous place and only the person can know whether they’ll be safe or not. Only they can make that choice.”

Sam remained surprisingly quiet throughout the discussion. He appeared to be listening closely, while Ava and MJ went head to head, and Peter wondered what he was thinking behind that sad and stoic façade. It looked like he hadn’t slept well, which meant he probably spent most of the night working hard on some latest project, but he had appeared happy and in good spirits until Ava and Peter revealed about the mermaids on shore. There was an empathetic side to him that Peter admittedly often overlooked, but this was hard to miss.

It reminded Peter of the times when Sam would crash over his place, back when they were still students in New York, and he remembered how Sam would spend so much time with Aunt May just cooking or cleaning or helping out. He was like an entirely different person. Ava often said that he came from a bad background, always afraid of what people would think or how they would react to his real self, and so the usual arrogance was the real mask.

“What’re you thinking, Sam?” Peter asked.

“What? Er, nothing.” Sam gave a dismissive wave and a smile. “It’s just – well – I keep thinking about all those cryptids that people think might really be mutants. I mean this country has that Beast of Bodmin and the Loch Ness Monster, right? The more people hear about them, the more people try and investigate them or catch them. I don’t know . . .”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” said Ava. “Even just a vague sighting could totally backfire; if you even so much as say ‘mermaids have been spotted’, you’ll get a crap-load of people hanging out on the beach for the chance at a real-life glimpse at one. You can’t mention Wade in specific, but you sure as heck can’t mention the cove or beach at all! We’ll end up with people in boats trawling the sea floor with nets. It’ll be chaos.”

“I just still can’t believe you guys kept this from me for this long!” Sam gave a pout and returned to his usual annoying self. “Wade sounds awesome! He sounds like the best – _the_ best! How could you trust Ava to go along, Petey, but not me? That’s not fair.”

“Maybe because I don’t fan-girl over mermaids,” muttered Ava.

“Can you blame me? They look so cool!”

Peter gave a smile, as he glanced out the windows into the corridor. He spotted Bruce walking past with head down and back hunched, leant over some paperwork that he couldn’t tear his eyes from, and he stopped midway as Tony walked from the opposite end. The two of them were closer than anyone Peter knew; they finished each other’s sentences, inspired each other’s work, and knew how to best goad and calm the other. Sam had affectionately nicknamed them the ‘science brothers’ and Peter could see why.

“The break-room’s soundproof, right?” Peter asked.

Ava followed his gaze and sat next to him, but the two men in the corridor just seemed to talk animatedly between themselves, and it hardly made for an interesting distraction. The only odd thing was how Tony would look over at the four of them, sometimes frowning and sometimes with a raised eyebrow in scepticism, and – when MJ pulled a childish face and smiled back at him – he gave a slight blush and rolled his eyes.

“We’re fine, trust me,” said Ava.

“Hello, guy here asking a question,” muttered Sam. “I just think it’s odd that you’ve been spending a _week_ at the beach talking to some guy, whether he’s a mutant or not, and you won’t even let me talk to him. You even took your ring off! Big changes and –”

“It was Wade’s choice,” snapped Peter. “I’m on Ava’s side for this. I don’t think it’s right to push Wade to talk to people, not if he’s not ready, and he’s had a really tough life. He hasn’t told me about it, but he’s covered in scars and his tail has been cut to ribbons, that – that – that just doesn’t happen with a happy life! If I force people on him, it’ll scare him off.”

“I was an exception anyway.” Ava gave a sigh, as she explained: “I’ve got a lot of history with mutants; I know where a few of their communities are, spent time with their families, and I know how they think and what they feel about humans. You can’t blame a guy for being comfortable with someone that knows how to treat them. It’s unusual for mutants to even leave their communities, most stay put until the day they die.”

There was an awkward silence between them. It was likely Sam knew about Ava’s heritage, but MJ was completely oblivious to it by all accounts, and it felt like there was a large unspoken secret in the room. MJ looked to Ava with a strange expression, as if she had long ago worked out the truth but knew better than to say it aloud. It may well have been an open secret, for all Peter knew. Peter looked away with a sad smile; he listened as MJ fidgeted in her seat, before she heaved a sigh and shook her head so her hair fell loose about her shoulders. MJ said:

“I know some must leave their homes, they –”

“They become the _reason_ the other ninety-nine percent stay at home,” said Ava. “There are a few that emigrate or travel without problem, usually the ones that pass off as human, but all it takes is for one mistake and you’re either a specimen or ran out of town.”

It was a heavy truth that took a moment to settle in their minds. Peter could not recall Ava having ever talked about her past or heritage, so – to even hear about it in abstract terms – it grabbed his attention and made him listen intently. Ava leaned back and crossed her legs, before she also folded her arms and looked away with her lip between her teeth.

“Most I know live where they are thought to have evolved.” Ava gave a sad smile. “You’ll find plenty of were-panthers or were-tigers in Asia and Africa, but virtually zero in North America. It’s just a part of life, I guess. It explains why human mythology varies from culture to culture, too, like you get Bigfoot in the states but the kappa in Japan. Trust me, that Wade has come out of the sea for even a minute -? It’s a _massive_ deal. Huge.”

“Surely isolation isn’t sustainable in this day and age?” MJ asked.

“It’s not isolation as you know it. They fit into ordinary communities; you could literally have most of your street inhabited by mutants, but they pass so well as humans that you’d never know. They invest well, they make connections . . . every hospital near them will have one mutant doctor, at least, to cover up any irregular results or to treat them, and every precinct will have one officer on team that will be a mutant, to cover any incidents. It’s part of why it’s so rare for them to leave, as they need _everyone_ to play a part.”

The rain outside picked up power; Peter looked out to the windows, where he watched as the rain covered the glass to the point visibility was all but gone, and a part of him panicked as he wondered whether Wade would be okay. It was a foolish thought. The moment it came to him was the moment he realised rain wouldn’t hurt Wade at all, especially when he could sink to the seabed and sleep under the water. The silence was soon broken again.

“So what about Wade?” Sam asked.

“We keep him secret,” said Peter. “I made a mistake telling Tony I thought there were mermaids, but he’s luckily forgotten all about it and never really believed me. If he finds out Wade actually exists . . . that he’s real . . . he’ll want to bring him in as a specimen.”

“That’s the best case scenario, too,” added Ava. “If word gets out to someone like Osborn, Wade could go from ‘being watched in a cage’ to ‘vivisection and taxidermy’. I know Tony wouldn’t treat Wade badly, but he’s still going to need him in one place and draw samples, and no one wants to spend their life locked away from home.”

Peter caught sight of Tony and Bruce in the corridor. It looked like their conversation was about to wrap up, as Bruce was desperately trying to walk away, only to be stopped by Tony turning back around with a ‘one last thing’, and Bruce glanced to him with a nervous smile. Peter eventually looked away, as he ran a hand over his face. It wouldn’t be long until Tony came inside to check in on them, as curiosity and his perpetual need for procrastination would compel him, which didn’t leave them long to finish the talk at hand.

“So why are you telling us?” MJ asked.

“So we have someone to cover,” replied Ava. “You have control over the media, while Sam basically has the ear of Stark, so we need you two to cover for Peter and keep people away from the cove, at least for as long as Wade chooses to stay there. We’re going to try and convince him to head home, whatever that may be for him, but until then –”

Tony chose that moment to enter. He strode past the sofas to the kitchen area not far off from them, where he poured himself a coffee from a pot that had to have been ice cold, and – without a second-thought – he downed the contents in one attempt. There was a sound of disgust from Ava, while Sam just gave a soft chuckle, and MJ and Peter shared a look that said more about their opinions on Tony than any words could ever manage.

The silence was eventually noticed, and Tony paused by the counter to look about them. They all immediately looked away, as if he might somehow overlook them by doing so, but he simply gave the characteristic quirk of his eyebrow and came towards them, where he stood next to the sofa where Ava and Peter sat together. He was dressed casually, but his arms were scattered with shallow cuts and burns, which indicated something had gone wrong in his private laboratory, and that was likely what his talk with Bruce was about. Tony asked:

“Am I interrupting something?”

Peter jumped in his seat and looked between his friends, before he settled his eyes upon Tony and tried to give what – he hoped – was a reassuring smile, although he was certain it likely came across as a mixture of ‘creepy’ and ‘liar’. The way Tony’s eyes narrowed made it clear he wasn’t buying it, so Peter looked down to his feet in shame and fidgeted with his hands. He just hoped Tony didn’t think they were talking about him.

“Er, no, we were just talking,” said Peter.

It was clear Tony didn’t believe him. The older man simply rolled his eyes and looked between them, as none of them made eye-contact and made it clear that the conversation didn’t include him, but – luckily – he was confident in himself, at least from what he showed to the world and what he let people believe. Tony simply muttered quietly:

“Well, this isn’t suspicious at all.”

Peter said nothing.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

# Chapter Six

Cable watched them from afar.

The rock in the cove entrance provided a good cover; it hid him mostly from sight, so that the two men on the sandy perimeter would only see him should they look for him, and it also provided a welcome piece of shade from the sun above. It was difficult to adjust to the warmth, even if such climes were considered cool by human standards, and he began to yearn for the coldness of the seas below. There was little breeze and little reprieve from the heat.

He ducked back underneath the water, before surfacing with a heave of breath. The waters clung to his skin and hair, cooling him just enough that he could stay exposed for just a while longer, but soon he knew he would need to enter the cove – enclosed by high cliffs and filled with shade – in order to protect his body. The waters were calm today, almost perfectly still, and he could see almost to the cove-floor where the fish congregated and swam with a strange elegance known only to nature. It felt cruel to interrupt Wade, but it was necessary.

Peter gave a soft laugh from the sands.

The human was dressed in a simple t-shirt and a pair of swim-shorts, both soaked with water, and his hair clung to his neck with damp. He lay barefoot beside Wade, as he held one arm around Wade’s waist and the other draped around his shoulders. Wade also sported what looked like clear arousal, as he placed soft pecks along Peter’s neck, and soon they were lost in an intense kiss. Cable felt no shame in watching such a display, as it was as natural as it was endearing, but he did feel a stab at discomfort at the fact they did not know he was there.

He was no voyeur and had no intentions of acting in such a manner. It was a grave concern that the relationship between these two men could advance so quickly, as only a few months had passed since their first meeting, and yet Peter had spent at least an hour every single day in the cove, simply enjoying his time with Wade. They had only spent two days apart, which was a result of a bad flu, and – even then – Ava had been sent in Peter’s stead.

“You should know that I am here,” Cabled called out.

Peter gave an audible yelp of panic. He practically threw Wade from him, as he scrambled back to press himself against the cliff-face, and he raised one forearm to cover his mouth in a rather unusual manner. It looked as if he sought to hide all evidence of the kiss, but Cable knew exactly what those flushed and swollen lips had been doing, even if he could no longer see them upon Peter’s face, and it was telling how Peter placed his other hand between his legs, as he tried to make such a gesture ‘casual’ and ‘normal’.

“What the fuck, Nate?” Wade spat.

There was little time to gauge Wade’s specific reaction, as Cable dove underneath the water’s surface and swam with great speed to the small short. He resurfaced with a flourish; he made sure to extend his muscled chest as much as possible, so that the human man would understand the strength held within a merman’s frame, and he hoped that the attempt at intimidation would dissuade Peter from any ill-chosen actions. He knew that he looked impressive compared to his companion, which would likely help the matter.

Wade rolled onto his back, erection now flagging and eyes glaring daggers at Cable, before he spat against the shore and sat upright. There were specks of sand sticking to his shoulders and sides, while an apparent love-bite stood out against his hip, and Cable knew then – even if this couple had not gone too far – that they had gone far enough. It was dangerous for Wade to invest emotionally into a person destined to be worlds apart from him.

“I apologise,” said Cable. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Oh, you got some fucking nerve, you metallic –”

“C-Cable, isn’t it?” Peter blushed red and said: “I can tell from your tail. Wade . . . he . . . well, he – he mentioned you a few times . . . you – er – used to be married, right? I – I don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve kind of come at the worst time, so could you -?”

“I did not mean to interrupt such an intimate moment, but you must understand that I have come out of great necessity. This is of the utmost importance.” Cable ignored Wade’s comment of ‘it’s always important’, as he maintained eye contact with Peter and Peter alone. “You have made it a habit to return to this cove on a daily basis; this has attracted attention of men beyond my trust, as such I have came to implore you to let Wade return home.”

There was an instantaneous reaction from Peter. He let his legs stretch out, while he leaned forward using both hands, and – as Cable watched him carefully – it served as further proof that this man was prone to unusual stances and positions. It was a far cry from the way he would often perch on his feet, crouched over with fingertips pressed against the sand, but it was also unusual enough that Cable speculated there was a trace of mutant ancestry in the man’s DNA. Peter continued to frown, this time red with rage.

“‘Let’ Wade?” Peter asked. “You’re serious?”

Cable fought back an urge to chastise Peter; he was not used to being confronted in such a manner, even when he was occasionally in the wrong, and – when he did come across an antagonistic individual – they often simply backed down or left his life. It was unusual to come across someone that looked ready to pick a fight, and the last person he met with such confidence in their being ‘right’ had been Wade. Cable drew in a deep breath.

“If you do not let him –”

“I’m not going to ‘let’ him do anything!” Peter folded his arms in defence. “He’s a grown man, in case it hasn’t crossed your attention. He can make any decision that he wants; I will always want what’s best for him, but I’d never coerce him into making a decision that he doesn’t want to make. If your idea of love is control, I’m glad Wade ‘let’ you go.”

“If you do not let him go, he will be captured. Tony Stark will sweep these waters and take him as a specimen, while reporters will cling to these shores and make it impossible for any of my kind to ever surface again. Is this what you want?”

“I – I – I just –!” Peter looked away with watery-eyes. “Of course that’s not what I want, but I also don’t want Wade to leave my life like that. I – I can’t imagine a life without him; I’ve lost so many people over the years, from my parents to my uncle to my girlfriend, and the idea of losing one more is just too much to bear. I never thought I’d fall for Wade, but I have and I know it’s selfish but -! I can’t lose him.”

There was an awkward moment of silence. Peter was clearly in emotional pain, which was detected by Wade with an unusual amount of perception, and the other merman flopped over with virtually no grace whatsoever, as he pressed himself against Peter’s side. Wade reached to take Peter’s hands in his scarred grip, which caused Peter to give a smile that was oddly innocent for someone that associated so closely with a man like Wade, and the two of them looked at each with an intimacy that Cable almost envied.

“Cable’s just jealous,” muttered Wade.

“He has a point, though,” conceded Peter. “You’re in danger here.”

“History is repeating itself, Wade.” Cable sighed and continued: “Did you ever tell Peter about your past? Did you tell him about how you once loved a human? You were not the only one scarred by those events, even if you were the only one physically scarred so.”

Wade tightened his grip on Peter’s hands; he used them as an anchor to ground himself, but the action didn’t quite have the result that he anticipated. There was a hiss of pain from Peter, followed by a paling of Wade’s disfigured skin, and – with a loud growl of aggression – Wade threw himself away from Peter with a heavy movement, until he dropped like a dead weight just beside him. He quickly began to shuffle to the water with his forearms, grunting with the exertion, before he was finally able to throw himself into the water and scream out:

“You know what? Why don’t _you_ tell him?”

There wasn’t even so much as a splash. Wade let himself sink in the water, like a weighted corpse, and – even after all this time – the lack of air-bubbles still felt strange to Cable, despite everything he had come to know over the preceding years. The visibility became more and more blurred as Wade went deeper and deeper, but the outline of his body could still be made out as he reached the seabed and crawled into foetal position by a stray rock. He would not have the energy to leave the cove, but nor would he have any reason.

It was typical of Wade to run from his problems, but Cable had hoped that time and experience would have changed his friend for the better. He carefully moved his tail to maintain his position above water, while Peter slid over to sit waist-high in the water, and Cable could see – from where he stayed afloat – the young man was looking down to make sure Wade was okay. The concern was written all over Peter’s expression.

“What was that about?” Peter asked.

“You need to know about Wade’s past,” said Cable. “It is something he should have confided in you before this relationship became serious, but – knowing Wade as I do – it is no surprise to me in the least that he would keep such a thing secret.”

“If it’s secret, you have no right to tell me.” Peter cast him a dark look. “I know Wade had a dark past; he talked about being a soldier, about his father’s anger issues, about how his mother died when he was young . . . I thought it was odd you guys needed soldiers, but he explained that they mostly acted to keep away dangerous sea-life and to act sort of like the police, mostly maintaining order and even helping people . . .”

“Wade is mistaken. You do not know this, but his memory has what you may call . . . lapses. He came from a good family home, with two parents that adored him, and his ‘back-story’ changes more than the tides themselves. I was told that the problem lied with an abusive mother, for example, that one day abandoned him. We were both lied to, Peter.”

“If he believes it, it’s not a lie . . . not really.”

Peter moved a little further into the water; he seemed intent on getting as close to the sharp incline as possible, so as to be as submerged in water as he was able, but he clearly still lacked confidence and the ability to swim, which hindered him from going further. The waters lapped against his waist and arms, which were bare and held only enough tone to make him possibly adequate in self-defence, but he was no fighter and was far shorter than either Cable or Wade when laid side-by-side. Peter gave a pout and asked:

“What does it matter to you anyway?”

“We do not exist in a vacuum, Peter,” said Cable. “Our past defines us as much as our choices, so that it shapes our path and dictates which of many branching directions we may travel, and Wade no longer has that foundation to shape his person. He is a lost man. He hides away from those that love him, often abusing and insulting those that seek him out, and believes he deserves to be alone. In time, he will hurt you, too.”

“Isn’t that my decision? If I want to take that risk, I have every right.” Peter ran his hands through his hair. “I love Wade. I won’t give up on him just because you think that I should, and even if Wade gives up on himself . . . I won’t give up on him. Do you think that I’m so shallow that I’d give up on him just because of a few obstacles? We can work on this.”

“Can you? You have no idea what he has endured, just as you have no idea what past tragedies stand to be repeated should Stark capture him, and it is your desire for love that keeps him here. If you reject him, he will leave. If he leaves, he will be safe.”

“If I leave him, it’d break him. He fears rejection more than I do.”

“Is that the only reason why you stay?”

Peter paled considerably. He pulled back as if he had been struck a blow, before his lips curled in apparent disgust and his eyes narrowed in dislike of the man before him. He cast a glance below to Wade, but the other merman had crawled underneath some rubble, so that only his tail was on display, and there was little way to judge what he felt or thought regarding the situation at hand. Peter shook his head and climbed to his feet.

He struggled to find purchase on the wet sand, particularly as it sloped to an almost extreme extent, and he spent a good minute struggling to reach the dry perimeter of the cove. Cable watched as he brushed away the sand stuck to his skin; it clung to him in a way that was easy to envy, like a reminder of what it meant to be human, and even the irritation of the sensation was something perhaps unique to land mammals. Peter soon grabbed a small bag of his belongings and made to walk away, but there was still much to be said.

“Wait,” called out Cable.

Peter stopped not far the rocks that joined the beach. He dropped his bag to the sands and turned with a heavy sigh, before he hunched his shoulders and rubbed at them with his free hand, clearly sore from so long spent lying in odd positions. It was something that sent a possessive stab through Cable, which took great effort to repress, as he remembered well how flexible and enthusiastic Wade could be in his ‘attentions’. Peter shrugged at him and asked:

“Why should I wait?”

“I misjudged you,” said Cable. “You need to know about Wade, however. I implore you to stay, at least long enough to make up your own mind about the situation, as there is great danger afloat and you are a part of this. It is the responsible thing to do.”

“My uncle used to say I should be more responsible.”

“Then stay. Sit and listen to me.”

There was a long pause. Peter merely shuffled from foot to foot, as he gave a pout that made him seem far younger than his years, and – with a great display of effort and petulance – marched back over to the waters and threw himself down. There was a splash of water, as he adjusted himself and rested his head upon his hands, and he stared at Cable in such a way that he felt taken aback. It was more intimidating than he likely intended.

“Okay, so talk,” said Peter.

“Wade came from a good and loving home,” explained Cable. “It is true that he became a soldier at eighteen, leaving behind a woman whom he loved more than either of us combined, but that love was not meant to be. It is also true that our soldiers exist more as peacekeepers, although strong combat skills are a necessity. Wade was needed to fight away volatile creatures, helped to maintain local wildlife levels, oversaw our hunters and made sure stocks were not depleted, and even saved people from building collapses and natural disasters.”

“That sounds like a heavy responsibility in itself.”

“Indeed. It is also a responsibility he abused; in times of disaster or great accidents, he would steal from the rubble or from those injured, and he would often take bribes or even would take money to commit indecent crimes. He was caught when a local farmer – for want of a better word – was found beaten with threats to let a rival have access to his land, and investigations led to the fact Wade committed the beating.”

Cable gave a moment for the words to be processed. He noticed that Peter paled and looked down towards Wade, whose tail moved in slow and circular motions against the sands below, and he likely reassessed everything he knew about Wade in relation to this new knowledge. It would be difficult to know that the person one loved once held a violent past, especially when deciding whether to pursue a potential future with them. Peter seemed to think deeply about what had been said, and – when he spoke – he spoke with great resignation.

“You’re saying that Wade’s violent?”

“Extremely,” admitted Cable. “He holds children sacred, while he would never abuse a lover, but for everyone else -? He sees them as fair game. We have rumours that he acted as a mercenary for people in neighbouring villages, enough that there is more red in his ledger than any of our kind, and the only reason we never exiled him is due to a lack of evidence. You can imagine what a people would think, when they pride themselves on being a utopia.”

“We – we all have red in our ledgers,” said Peter. “My girlfriend’s death was my fault, too. I would rather not get into it, but I also lost my best friend that day. I beat myself up enough about it without needing anyone else to help, so I _know_ what it’s like to live with that guilt and shame, and I wouldn’t judge Wade for his past. What matters is who he is now and –”

“– and who he is now is a man who no longer knows even himself. Eventually, Wade was asked to leave until he could learn to find peace within himself, and so he fled to the shores and the coasts, looking to test his strength on humans rather than mermen.”

“You expect me to believe that he began to attack humans?”

“Indeed, it’s how we first met,” said Cable.

Cable swam closer; he ducked under the water as he moved, to re-hydrate his skin and breathe deep something other than air, and re-emerged at the edge of the sands, where he was able to climb into a sitting position next to Peter. The younger man looked startled, as he looked around almost in search of some support, but Cable – in an attempt to comfort him – placed a hand upon his shoulder and squeezed. Cable then gave a warm smile and asked:

“What do you know about sirens?”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7: Flashback

# Chapter Seven

# Flashback

He looked beautiful.

It was difficult to focus upon anything else; the waves became silent, the rocks became a bore, and the sun no longer felt so warm. The only sight became _him_. He was perched upon one of the many rocks along the shingle beach, with lower body hidden beneath the cool and crisp waters, and he was visibly naked – or at least half-dressed – as he looked over at Cable with the most astonishingly brown eyes that Cable could ever recall having seen.

He had hair so blonde that it looked almost white, while his skin was the perfect shade of pink that stood between ‘pale’ and ‘tanned’, and his muscles were enough to make it clear he was either a professional athlete or a professional soldier. There were a few small scars on his skin, enough to make him look ‘rugged’, but nothing to ruin his appearance or detract from the otherworldly attraction. The water clung to his skin and slicked back his hair, and Cable instinctively licked his lips at the sight. It had been too long since his last release.

“I was not aware this was a cruising spot,” observed Cable.

The young man did not respond. Cable guessed his age around thirty or so, but there was something as dangerous as there was alluring about his smile. The man reached out a hand and crooked his finger; it was a beckoning gesture that Cable had seen very rarely except outside of certain bathrooms, but somehow it was made seductive and come-hither by the arched back and pouted lips. Cable stepped forward. He was barefoot and the water washed over his feet and ankles in a way that was comforting, and he shrugged off his heavy jacket.

“I am here for work and not for pleasure.”

The jacket fell to the stones below, where the material rustled against the stones, and Cable felt – for the first time in a long while – a degree of gratitude that he had travelled for so long and for so far, as he had not expected to find a man so exotic in this part of the world. England was cold beyond anything he could stand. There were countries colder, of course, but his skills as a mercenary were unwanted when those like Romanov claimed such lands, and no one wanted his skills as a scientist when death trailed him like a bad stench.

He stepped across the shingles, while he cursed the feeling against his rough feet. There was some difficulty in judging distance with his lack of depth perception, but this young man appeared not turned off by his missing eye in the least, and – to the contrary – he only waved Cable ever closer with a mesmerising song, hummed under his breath to some tune that was completely unrecognisable. His employer could wait, but his needs could not.

“This is not normally something I would do,” said Cable.

The man stroked a hand over his chest with a sigh.

“I am here merely to research local wildlife.” Cable unbuttoned his trousers. “My employer is of the belief that there may be mutants here, but you are perhaps the closest thing to something inhuman I have seen in these past few weeks. You almost fit the rumours.”

Ah, the rumours. Cable smiled at the mention by locals of a siren that lived in the area, one that summoned unsuspecting youths to the rocks, and – unlike his employer – he had half-suspected something much like this: a man that no other man wanted to admit to having succumbed. There was still some prejudice against homosexuality, especially in these fishing towns, and better to be enticed by a ‘siren’ than by a human. Cable had nearly dismissed his employer’s insistence to investigate further, but now he felt grateful.

“No one ever discusses what happens once this siren has ‘lured’ them.” Cable laughed and said calmly: “I can imagine, however. You certainly have far more confidence than most of the men in this forlorn place, perhaps you would enjoy –”

Cable reached out to touch the man.

The result was instantaneous: the man attacked. It was such a shock that Cable barely had time to react . . . there was a blade in one hand, while the man’s expression darkened into something almost psychotic, and he flung himself at Cable with great strength . . . it took all of his energy to grab the man’s wrists and stop him from slicing at Cable’s body. He felt cool to the touch, while he was slippery and moved with great speed.

It was difficult to hold the man back, especially when he seemed intent on plunging his blade – almost like flint, strangely coloured and with an odd hilt – into Cable’s side, and yet he somehow managed to flip the man onto his back. There came forth an ear-piercingly loud scream, enough that Cable was forced to flinch, and that was the only opening that this stranger needed. He pulled loose his wrist and plunged a fist into Cable’s stomach, winding him and causing him to retch violently, as he was thrown against the sands in turn.

The waters were surprisingly deep, enough they washed over his face and caused him to struggle to keep his head above water, but every movement knocked him back down and let water fill his mouth, desperate to stay open for gulps of air. Sand clung to his body. Coldness overwhelmed his sensitive system. This man had him as a disadvantage; Cable fought against him for control, until – with sheer luck – he connected his fist with his attacker’s chin.

The man crashed back into the waters.

Cable crawled over him and sat upon him; he wrenched the blade from the man’s hand, before he threw it violently into the sea beyond the rocks, and he used one hand to pin both wrists high above this person’s head. The man panted for breath. He also was flushed red and his face almost fully submerged underneath the water, and yet he seemed able to breathe perfectly fine, and the reason was clear: gills. He had _gills_. They weren’t visible at all, at least until he fell under the water, and now Cable felt something against his back.

“You have a tail . . .”

It was cold against his flesh, but the scales were golden and beautiful. They reflected the light like dozens of diamonds, until they began to hurt Cable’s eye and made him look away, and the fins were spread in a way that made them appear every shade between gold and silver. He also realised that this creature had genitalia much like a human, while his eyes held an intelligence that was supposedly impossible for a mutant to express. The locals were right, just as his employer was correct: there were ‘sirens’ in this area.

“A mermaid,” observed Cable.

The man trilled beneath him.

There was a subtle movement to his hands, while the trilling sounded almost like a version of Morse code that relied on intonation, almost like a song in itself, but above the waters it became more of a scream and became far more high-pitched. This man had his own language, something unlike most languages known to mankind, and Cable realised that there was much to learn from his kind. Cable looked down on the petulant creature with a smile.

“Do you speak any English?”

The man screamed out.

“I guess that is a no.”

* * *

“Specimen? I don’t know that word.”

Wade stretched out against the sand. It was a small part of the beach with few shingles, just enough to lie comfortably, and Cable felt grateful to be friends with a man that knew his way about these shores so well. He was amazed at how quickly Wade had learned English in these past few months, even if he spoke with an odd accent and picked up swears quickly from the sailors whom he eavesdropped upon, and currently he contented himself by humming a sea-shanty that seemed unlike anything Cable had ever heard. Cable smiled and continued.

“I have not taught you that word yet,” said Cable. “That is why.”

He sat beside Wade on the sands, where he watched as the seemingly younger man stretched out, and – with fluid and graceful movements – he swirled his tail in circles through the incoming tide, creating small splashes and patterns in the water. It was clear that the water made him more comfortable, as too long in the sun would dry his scales and make them painful to move, and so he took delight in splashing water over himself every few minutes.

They sat in a strange silence for a long while. Cable enjoyed the feeling of sun upon his skin, along with the slight breeze from the east, and even the clouds in the sky were few and far between, which made for an unusual day in these islands. Wade’s hair had long dried out, which showed its volume and silky texture, and there were many days – between sparring matches and long sessions of love-making – where Cable would do nothing except run his hands through those same locks. Today he simply sat beside Wade.

“So your . . . boss?” Wade frowned. “That’s the right word, right? Okay, so your boss wants me as a specimen, but – well – I don’t understand why or what that means. I’m just a mermaid – man – person . . . _whatever_! Even my own people don’t want me.”

“My boss is a bad man, Wade,” explained Cable. “I would not usually work for such men, but he had a state-of-the-art laboratory. It enables me to work on my techno-organic material that –” Cable saw Wade’s confused expression and smiled “– will further my research. I apologise, as it is clear you do not understand my words.”

Wade frowned and rolled onto his stomach, which hid his member from sight. The swell to his buttock area was just as alluring, hiding the ‘spot’ that acted in a similar way to the hole of a human male, and Cable was distracted by such impure thoughts. He smiled at Wade’s expression, so childlike and so innocent, and he wondered just what the man would have to say should his English one day improve. Wade would often babble for hours in his native tongue, using hand-gestures for emphasis, and yet he was so quiet in his second-language.

“I once studied law, long ago,” said Cable. “I later moved my studies into science, while I travelled the world as what you can call a mercenary . . . someone that fights for money. I usually pick my employers carefully; I will only fight for good, so I often side with people who seek to overthrow corrupt rulers or prevent their abusers from preying upon them, but this man is very different. This man is cruel and often takes joy in others’ pain.

“So far I have acted only in reconnaissance and research, avoiding hurting anyone for his purposes, and he allows me to work on my techno-organic material. That is . . . it is essentially a virus that converts organic material into a metallic substance, which ultimately kills the host, but I seek to adapt it into something useful to mankind. I could use it to replace organs that no longer work, act as a skin transplant to those seriously maimed, or to even replaced limbs that have long been removed. There is much potential.”

He realised that Wade was lost yet again. It had been an infuriating task to explain ‘science’, even though scientists and technicians existed in Wade’s world beneath the waves, and he was not inclined to explain ‘organic material’ or ‘metallic substance’ in a hurry, and – as such – he prayed that his new lover would understand the gist and not ask for details. Wade looked over to Cable with brown eyes dilated and cheeks slightly flushed, as he asked:

“So you work with the bad man to help your science?”

“You seem surprisingly astute to my meaning, at least for one still basking in the afterglow.” Cable laughed when Wade cursed him in embarrassment. “Still, you need to be warned about my employer and those others under his employ. They are a danger to you.”

“I can out-swim anyone! I don’t need to be afraid.”

“Wade, a ‘specimen’ is a creature taken from its habitat for study. This means that he will have you removed from this beach and put into a glass cage, one that will have barely enough room for you to move, and each day he will take samples of your blood and skin. He will want to test you, because he believes you hold the key to improving humans.”

The breeze picked up and blew sand against the side of Cable’s body, with a few specks irritating his remaining eye and causing him to rub against it to clear his sight, and – in the time it took to clear his vision – Wade had thrown himself back into the water, so that he lay horizontally on the shore. It allowed the waves to flow over his body, giving his gills a chance to open and breathe below the water, and he looked almost ready to swim away. He could be playful at times, and Cable half-expected him to instigate a chase by swimming out.

“Improve humans?” Wade asked.

“Yes,” said Cable. “Your DNA could be used for my research, perhaps turning your kind into humans, or humans into your kind, and both could be adapted for ‘improvements’. It is possible to give humans gills to breathe underwater, for example, but this could only come about with you as – what we call – a ‘specimen’. I will do what I can to protect you, but I cannot be here all the time. It may be best for you to return home.”

“Yeah, that isn’t going to be happening. I’ll tell you what _is_ going to happen, though, and that’s racing you to that big rock out there! If you win, you can take me up against it and be damned anyone that happens to walk by and see. If I win, we head back to shore and _I_ get to take _you_ for once. You always get to top. It’s not fair.”

Cable gave a loud laugh. There was no way to win such a bet, as Wade claimed to swim faster than even those of his kind, and the tides were strong enough to give great resistance to any human that tried to fight against them. He shook his head and said calmly:

“Very well, but after we shall talk.”

“Not if your mouth’s full!”

Wade gave a wink.

* * *

“This tastes like shit,” muttered Wade.

Cable pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He remembered well how Wade’s English was once so formal and so beautiful, with many respectful pauses as he collected his thoughts, and now – after listening to sailors, surfers, and teenagers – he was reduced to slang, swears, and contractions. He also would talk endlessly without pause, showing a great fondness for puns and jokes, even if those jokes were far from funny.

The mermaid currently sat leaning against a rock, with his tail submerged in the waves, and Cable stood above him holding the picnic basket awkwardly. He had hoped Wade would move further up the beach to enjoy a meal, but – the moment he saw Cable – his hands dove into the basket and removed a cheese-and-cucumber sandwich. Cable’s landlady had prepared the food upon his request, as he sought to appease Wade’s constant and curious questions about what Cable ate and why he needed to drink and what food tasted like.

“Seriously.” Wade dunked it under the waves. “Shit.”

The bread was now soaking wet, as well as smashed into a strangely spherical shape, and the cucumbers had been picked up – from where they fell – and piled up on top of the monstrosity that Wade had created. It took all of Cable’s self-restraint not to smack it from the man’s hand and chastise him for wasting food, and an embarrassing part of him remembered being told - as a child - about starving children in Africa for every crumb left on his plate. It was a waste, but it wasn’t as if Wade intentionally wasted such food.

“You must not get it wet,” said Cable.

“What? Really?” Wade furrowed his brow. “Everything we eat’s all wet and stuff; I was never too keen on fish as a kid, but always managed to get a hankering for seaweed! Have you tried oysters? One of the guys from a village some place else brought them over once, soon we started a trade with him for some shark meat our gals got from up north, and –”

“Here. Try it when it’s dry. Chew it well and take small bites.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, I know! Don’t bitch.”

Cable handed Wade a new sandwich, which was snapped away with a hungry petulance. It took Wade a long while to eat it; he first nibbled on pieces of grated cheese, along with licks of butter and cucumber, before he bit into the sandwich as a whole. He paused, as if trying to discern whether it was safe to eat or some secret poison, but soon the taste and texture grabbed a hold of him and his eyes lit up with pleasure. There was a childish yelp, followed by several large mouthfuls of sandwich, and then a long moan of ecstasy.

“Nob shib,” muttered Wade. He swallowed and repeated: “Not shit!”

“I’m glad to hear it. You should try the cake next.”

Wade’s eyes lit up in excitement.

* * *

Cable lay half-naked beside Wade.

It was comfortable to be shirtless, as the sun was so bright. They were tucked away behind an outcropping of rocks, in the small nook that was mostly sand and not shingle, and the few shadows provided a mild comfort from the heat. The trousers on his waist were loose and exposed his length, which – while not impressive fully sated – always sated Wade when fully erect. He was quite proud of his length when at full attention, as many paled in comparison.

He rested on his back, with his hands underneath his head, simply basking in the afterglow and allowed the waves to come ever higher and wash away the semen and sweat, and enjoyed how the tides now came to his waist. Wade was unusually well above the tide. They had finished their lovemaking with Cable taking care of his lover, teaching him about the ‘twelve tongue positions that can bring anyone to ecstasy’, and Wade – taking everything Cable ever said to absolute seriousness – swore to remember each and every one.

It was why his waist was currently on level with Cable’s head.

Those fins barely touched the water, while he lay flat on his stomach and made occasional moans of enjoyment, and the afterglow gave him an aura unlike any other, so that every part of him looked flushed and alive. Cable felt somewhat breathless, but it was to be expected when his stamina wasn’t what it was in his youth, especially when his partner was so insatiable and had the refractory period of a teenager. It was not long before Cable heard footsteps on the shingles beyond the rocks. It was time for Wade to leave.

“You must go, someone is coming,” warned Cable.

‘ _Actually, I’m already here_.’

Cable jumped to his feet, as Ajax stood high on the nearby rock. The British man looked down with a familiar apathetic expression, as he kicked at the rocks and kept his hands low by his sides, and – with shaved head and tanned skin – he appeared almost criminal. If word got back to Killebrew that Cable had been withholding a potential specimen, it could mean the end of his research and his funding. The best option would be to pretend this a one-off.

Luckily, Wade reacted quickly. The young merman threw himself in the direction of the shore, desperate to get away, and his forearms were already deep in the water – entrenched in sand, as he made to lunge into the depths – when Ajax raised his arm casually and without warning, revealed the Taser in his grip. He didn’t even glance in Wade’s direction, too used to violence and weaponry, and pulled the trigger with a skill that even men in battle often could not command. The ends of the weapon embedded itself into Wade’s back.

Cable looked away.

He could not bear to see Wade shudder and jolt in apparent pain, unable to control his body or escape from his fate, and the noise he made – usually so beautiful and like Morse code beneath the waves – came out as a high-pitched scream as his back arched above the water. It was undignified. It was inhuman. Wade eventually stilled in the water and remained half-afloat, while his tail lay flat on the sands below. Ajax ejected the Taser cartridge.

“Carry him for me, will you?”

Ajax walked away with an exaggerated swing to his steps, as if bored already and seeking to express those feelings however he was able, and Cable – left alone with his unconscious lover – had no choice but to lift him up into his arms. He held hope that he could convince Killebrew to let Wade go, once samples were taken, or that he could ‘lose’ Wade somehow along the way to the laboratory, but there was a terrible doubt in the back of his mind. The techno-organic research could potentially save so many lives . . .

It simply was not worth it should it come at the cost of Wade. The weight in his arms felt heavy, more than the weight of one man alone, and Cable knew that to so much as carry Wade to the laboratory would be to become complicit in whatever followed. There was not much time to decide: Ajax would soon grow suspicious. It would be easy to throw Wade back out into the waters, although there was no knowing whether he could breathe while unconscious and –

“Hey, Summers! Do I look like I got all day?”

Cable made up his mind: he followed.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8: Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: medical experimentation, implied miscarriage

# Chapter Eight  
Flashback

_‘Get him in the tank,’ said a voice._

_‘Have you adjusted the water accordingly?’_

_The second voice sounded familiar. It was deep and rough, but with a dangerous edge that was far less familiar than the rest. Wade pried open his eyes and saw in double; two images of Cable’s face faded in and out of his sight, both just as pale and forlorn as the other, and his hands were cold against him. The scales on Wade’s tail were sore and dry, while his lips felt chapped and broken, and he just wanted back in the sea. He needed water._

_‘Set according to your samples’, said the annoying “perky” voice. ‘Look, mate, I have to get data from the other mutants. You know . . . those things strapped up behind you? Let’s not make this last longer than it has to last. Just put him in the tank and walk away.’_

_‘I need you to promise me that you will not hurt him. He’s not like the others.’_

_‘No, he’s better than the others. He’s the only merman we got.’_

_There was a soft laugh from this new man._

_‘Don’t worry. You get first dibs.’_

* * *

“Make this bloody thing eat, will you?”

Ajax shoved a bucket toward him. It was filled with various types of fish, all relatively fresh and bought that day or the day previous, but the smell was something horrendous and the dead creatures looked more slimy than they did appealing to any sane person. The dead eyes of one looked up at him, as he sat perched upon the stool beside his desk. He caught sight of a few molluscs and oysters at the bottom of the bucket, but no seaweed in the slightest.

It was no wonder that Wade refused to eat, but to explain the tastes of the merman would be to reveal their relationship had been ongoing. Cable dropped the bucket beside him. The work on his desk was too important to ignore; a sample of Wade’s DNA sat underneath his microscope, which could be compared to that of a human’s, and – already – he had managed to use the information to adapt the human DNA. He already found a way to give gills to a person, albeit theoretically, but to test such knowledge would require a ‘subject’.

“I think I have made a breakthrough,” said Cable.

“Really? Brilliant.” Ajax sat on the desk. “You heard what Killebrew said: grab a mutant. It’s a win if it works, but it’s no loss if it doesn’t. You can just dump the bodies downstairs; let them test what went wrong along with the reject ‘patients’. Which one do you want?”

Ajax climbed up and gestured across the room. There was a long table centre of it all, which featured an array of paperwork and medical equipment, while several upright tables stood against the wall to the far left. They were metallic and silver, so much like everything else in the laboratory, and the lack of windows and harsh light only made them all the more prominent, enough to draw the eye directly to them. Two were occupied. There was a werewolf strapped to one, with a purported ‘vampire’ on another.

“The werewolf is the one with a sense of humour,” said Ajax.

He walked over to strapped man, where he grabbed him by his chin. Cable looked away, unable to stand Ajax’s teasing and torment of a person trapped, and looked to his right at the many shelves and cases that lined the entire wall, each one a testament to the work to which they contributed. He avoided looking directly opposite him, to the tanks that overlooked his and Ajax’s desks, as – in the sole occupied one – sat Wade. Cable gave a sigh and said:

“We all know how humour offends you.”

“Well, if there’s one thing that doesn’t survive in this place . . .”

Cable ignored Ajax, as he backhanded the werewolf. Ajax was not a sadistic man, unless provoked in some manner, but Killebrew had recently ordered a variety of injuries to be given to the werewolf. The priority in research was to test how fast he healed. The abuse would continue until all samples had been taken, all data recorded, and all information extracted from him, likely via torture should he not volunteer the information. There was not much usage for specimens after that, except for vivisection and then an autopsy.

“I said I _thought_ the techno-organic material was ready,” lied Cable.

“Hmm? What’s your point, Cyclops Man?”

“My point is that it will require further testing.” Cable repressed a shudder. “I will need to apply it to some further samples, seeing how it reacts to the DNA markers, before it will be ready to test on a living subject. Let’s not waste specimens needlessly.”

“See, normally I would agree with you. It’s just that you have this – how shall we say – _reputation_. You’re the one that wants to cure cancer, improve human biology, and find alternatives to organ transplants . . . that’s all very noble, but what our boss wants is to create ‘enhanced’ humans. You have to break a few eggs to make an omelette. If you have some sort of moral objection to what we’re doing here, maybe you’re in the wrong place.”

“You would threaten me with a chance to become an ‘enhanced’ human?”

“Well, you’d make a useless specimen, wouldn’t you?”

Ajax gave Cable a look, as if he knew Cable had no loyalty to their work. It was dark, but with a surprising lack of emotion, almost like a man that emulated ‘anger’ to the best of his ability, without ever having felt it – or anything like it – in his life. To make a point, Ajax punched the werewolf hard in his stomach, leaving a visible bruise and making the man cough and vomit down himself, before he wiped his hands on the man’s sleeves and walked away with a huff of frustration. Ajax sat awkwardly at his desk and snapped:

“Just do as you’re told.”

* * *

The tank had barely any room.

It was approximately six feet by six feet, standing at another six feet high. The water was kept relatively clean with a purifier at one corner, while a collection of data – salt levels, temperature, and so forth – stood on an electrical screen between this tank and its neighbour, so that full control could be kept over the contents. Cable had spent many hours before the tank, with hand rested upon the glass, as he tried to apologise to Wade.

There was no reassurance from his words.

In the past week, Wade had endured more than anyone ever ought. There were patches of hair missing from his scalp, while many cuts and bruises lined his body, and – in places – there were even blisters formed from burns. Killebrew wanted information on how fast Wade healed, whether his tail or fins healed faster than his skin, and how he reacted to pain, and lately the experiments had moved further ahead. They wanted to know how much salt he needed to be comfortable, what temperatures he could endure, wherever acidity made a difference . . . Wade had once spent an entire weekend under inhumane conditions.

The purifier had been turned off, leaving him swimming in excrement, and the salt was dangerously high and the temperature dangerously cold, and Cable had found him lying unconscious upon the glass floor with little response. That experiment had ended at that moment, as Cable refused to let Ajax continue it longer. Cable had sworn that night to get revenge for Wade. He swore to free Wade. He regretted his choice to have brought Wade, as the things to which he was subjected were beyond anything Cable had imagined.

“Did you two fuck?” Ajax asked.

Cable clenched his hands into fists. He remembered Killebrew asking for a sample of ‘seed’ a few days previous, which Ajax had reluctantly made to retrieve, and Cable – unable to see Wade touched without consent by a monster – offered to take the sample instead. Wade had done nothing but glare at him since, signing and trilling words that were clearly insults even with the language barrier, and today was no different at all. Wade’s left eye was swollen to the point he could no longer see, but still it was aimed at Cable.

The merman currently curled himself in the corner of the tank, where he picked at scabs on his wrist and occasionally banged his head against the glass wall, and it became clear he was a self-destructive person and there would need to be a suicide watch upon him. Wade looked beaten and broken, but still recognisable as his former self, but his passion and petulance had been replaced by a righteous anger and venomous expression. He looked violent.

“No,” lied Cable. “Why do you ask?”

“The fucking ultrasounds and x-rays won’t pick up what’s under his tail,” explained Ajax. “It won’t even pick up some of the abdominal organs. Killebrew has ruled out a vivisection for now, says we still have too much to learn from him, but the bastard has been refusing food and keeps curling up in the corner of the tank. Just won’t stop touching his stomach.”

“I do believe the penis reveals alone that he is biologically male.” Cable felt a stab of dread. “Even were I to have somehow mated with him, there is no way that he could carry any young in a way that your words seem to imply. He is likely depressed.”

“Oh, I have no doubt that he’s bloody depressed, but that’s not the point.” Ajax tapped on the glass and shouted ‘boo’ to Wade, who bared his teeth and hissed back. “You got all the samples that you need, right? That techno-organic crap is at the point where you can soon use it, replace missing organs and enhance humans to be more like these freaks? I want you to tell me the second it’s complete.” Ajax smiled. “I want to be the one to gut this one.”

Wade had certainly gotten Ajax’s full attention.

The past few weeks were filled with thrown punches, bites, and even an attempted strangling of the abusive captor. It had advanced to the point that Ajax felt sufficiently provoked, unable to stand the insult of being mocked and attacked for every sample needed, and had taken to putting electrical currents through the water, denying him food, and even slashing his fins into shreds so that Wade could no longer swim. The merman could only float to the surface or sink to the bottom to crawl, no longer the fastest of his kind by any means.

“Shit, is that little fuck bleeding?”

Cable followed Ajax’s gaze. There was indeed a mist of blood about Wade’s tail, but there were no fresh wounds to cause the mist and it seemed to stem from a spot just behind Wade, almost as if he were sitting on its cause or trying to hide the cause. Wade was hunched over with hands clenched around his stomach, along with what may have been tears on a man above water, and he shook his head over and over in a way all too human.

“A miscarriage,” muttered Cable. “You were right. He can carry.”

“Fuck, that shouldn’t have happened.”

Ajax ran a hand through over his face, as he gave an almost sympathetic frown. He turned around and swore loudly, as he slammed his hands onto the central table and threw the paperwork onto the floor, before he turned and jabbed his finger in the direction of Wade. The anger on his expression seeped through into his voice:

“We could’ve used a second specimen.”

* * *

“I know you have no reason to trust me,” said Cable.

The room was pitch black. There was no natural lighting, but there was plenty of artificial lighting from the various stand-by lights of the machines or the spotlights upon the specimens, and both Wade and the werewolf in particular struggled with the lights. It kept them awake, disturbed their routines, and caused them severe mental distress on occasion, and yet Cable could do nothing except press his hand against the glass and hope Wade was listening to him. There were no words to make this better. None.

“I have finished my research,” confided Cable. “I may not have found the cure for cancer, but I was able to programme the virus to replicate organs of choosing, which will revolutionise healthcare as we know it. I know that the lives of thousands is not worth the suffering of one, but this will save many lives.” There was no reply. “I have left records with Stark.”

It would be a matter of days before Killebrew worked out the leak, at which point Cable would need to be long gone, and Stark – with time and effort – would decipher his work and be able to adapt some of his inventions to include the research. An arc reactor may be able to keep a heart beating, but it could not fix the heart itself and create an organ to replace the old, all without surgeries or drugs. It might take Tony years, but it could be done.

“I have adapted the techno-organic virus in my possession to adapt the human body.” Cable pressed on before Ajax returned. “It will enable me to change into something like you, just long enough to get you back to your people. I swear I will get you out of here.”

Wade said nothing and crawled further away.

“I will fix these wrongs. I swear.”

* * *

“Okay, so _that’s_ when I told him that –”

“Shut up, for God’s sake!”

Ajax sat at his desk and massaged his temples. It was clear that he was near breaking point, as the collar of his lab coat was pulled loose and his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were closed into a scrunch that looked almost painful. Cable had planned to make their escape later that same day, but Wade had been intent on pushing Ajax until Ajax looked ready to finally perform the vivisection he had been threatening for so many weeks.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said!” Wade chirped. “You psychic?”

The werewolf gave a chuckle from his place on the upright table, which was the final straw for Ajax’s temper, and – with a roar of frustration – he threw himself upright and let his stool hurtle backwards across the room. Ajax braced himself against his desk with fingertips pressed against the tabletop, so soon his knuckles turned white, and his breathing was so rapid that Cable half-suspected he would soon pass out from the strain.

Wade continued to babble from the open tank. The lid was conveniently ‘broken’, which Cable helped would aid their escape later, but Wade would not move from his perch on the rim, where he hung his arms over the top and rested his chin upon the glass. He was speaking about everything and nothing, even talking gibberish on occasion, and Ajax – with a loud cry and a slammed fist into the wall – stormed around the central table and marched over to the tank. Ajax grabbed Wade by his bald head and shoved him beneath the water.

Wade spluttered and choked. He had been mid-sentence, using one set of lungs, and seemed to take in an obscene amount of water with no time to adjust, until he was nearly sick beneath the waves and his gills fluttered rapidly to make up for the change in environment. Ajax tried again to close the lid, but the gears were so stuck that it was completely impossible, and Wade had plenty of time to resurface with a petulant pout upon his lips.

“Fuck you, Ajax,” muttered Wade.

There was a long sigh from Ajax, as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, before he looked across to Cable and pointed a finger to him, and the gesture was as threatening as it was offensive. Cable quirked an eyebrow, but Ajax simply said in a low and demanding voice:

“Deal with him, Priscilla.”

Cable stood and placed a hand upon his gun. It was holstered on his side, where he had few causes to use it since coming to this peaceful island, and yet it felt all too familiar in his hand as he unclipped the holster and removed it with a smooth gesture. He felt the stab of the insult keenly in his breast, while the contempt shown by a man so sickening felt an even greater insult, and so he raised his gun and aimed it directly at Ajax’s head. The werewolf strapped nearby gave a cheer and begged Cable to pull the trigger. He stayed his hand.

“You are not in charge here, Francis,” said Cable.

“Hey! Francis?” Wade gave a laugh and said again: “Francis! Francis!”

The werewolf and Wade both laughed to the point of tears, but the name ‘Francis’ was not one to utter loudly around a man that so loathed the name. Cable lowered his gun, although he kept it in his hand and allowed for a strong grip, and watched as Francis stormed back over to Wade with furious gestures. He kicked hard upon the glass and caused Wade to flinch, more out of instinct than for any real fear, and he spat against the glass soon after.

“Keep it up, shit-for-skin,” spat Francis. “You’re next for vivisection.”

“Like I care.” Wade splashed water at them. “Francis!”

“Then let’s find something you _do_ care about then, shall we?”

Ajax turned with a smile and walked brusquely over to Cable. He reached out and took the gun from the older man with a surprising amount of ease, which in itself was enough for Wade to stop his childish chanting and pay attention, and soon he was simply muttering the name under his breath, while occasionally dipping below. Ajax busied himself checking the gun and the rounds, before he finally felt happy with what he saw and aimed it.

The werewolf was dead before Cable could process the sight.

Wade paled at once, as he slid lifelessly down into the water and sank to the bottom. The gun was still smoking as the werewolf fell slack against his restraints, with blood and brain matter clinging to the table behind his slumped head. There was an awful stench in the air, but Ajax ignored it and walked over to Wade with a smile, before he threw the gun onto the central table with an all too casual gesture. He knelt down before the tank.

“His blood is on your hands, Wade.”

There was no response from the merman. He curled up on the floor of the tank, before rolling onto his side and exposing the mottle body of scars to the room, and he looked as broken as emotionally as he had been physically. The sorrow was writ across his feature. There was barely an inch of skin that was as smooth as it had been before, while his hair no longer grew and his tail was so broken that it could barely be used to push himself about, certainly not to swim. Francis looked down at him with a smile and tapped the glass.

“I think I’ll burn those gills of yours,” whispered Ajax. “I want to see how you breathe with at least two swollen shut. I wonder if it’s a problem to keep them permanently open, because I would so love for you never to come above water again. Now . . . what’s my name?”

Wade said nothing. He simply trilled in his strangely beautiful language, before he moved his tail and buried his head into his hands, and Cable – for a brief and worrisome moment – feared that Wade would be too dejected to later help in his own escape. Ajax waited a long time for a response, even humming some old game-show tune, before he stood up.

“Didn’t think so,” said Ajax.

Wade laughed and said:

“Francis.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9: Flashback

# Chapter Nine

# Flashback

He was dead.

The body of Killebrew collapsed upon the chair; blood ran down the leather, while the gaping wound across his throat stood as a testament to his humanity, even if that said humanity had been doubted by countless of people. There was glass upon the floor. The old man had been holding a tumbler of whiskey when Cable struck, which fell to the floor with a crash and scattered across the solid oak of the office, and now it crunched underfoot.

Cable sheathed the knife and kicked the chair back. It rolled to a stop against the mahogany desk, where the jolt sent the body falling forward, so that the head lolled against the knees and looked down at the floor in an undignified manner. The skin was pale and the stench rang out in an all too familiar way, heavy with iron and lingering even when Cable stepped back, and he felt frustration that such a man’s blood stained his weaponry. There was little reason to stay now that revenge had been exacted and Killebrew could hurt no one else.

He stepped outside into the hallway.

There was a roar from the floors below; the fire was barely under control, so that Cable could already hear beams and furniture snapping with the heat, and – just a few minutes previous – there was even a sound of glass being blown across the lands outside. The heat was beginning to grow unbearable, while smoke slowly drifted upward and through various cracks and vents, and Cable estimated that there was roughly thirty minutes until the building collapsed. He closed the door to office and made his way to the end of the hallway.

A large glass set of doors blocked the way to the staircases, which were the only point of escape for those below seeking to head upward away from the flames, and the flames – strategically placed – would inevitably force them upward, should they have survived. They were not innocent people, but those like Francis and Killebrew. The doors were reinforced and required a password to enter, which Cable changed with a few quick presses.

“This is the future you chose,” he said to no one.

The walls in the stairwell could be seen. They were painted with flickering lights and shadows, so that the flames below could steadily be seen coming higher and higher, and the smoke that began to fill the area almost blinded him to the ceiling above. The fire-alarms had all been disarmed, the fire-fighting equipment all broken or removed, and he was certain that everything about this place would be destroyed in a pile of ashes by the evening.

Nothing would survive.

Cable made his way to the laboratory, as he gripped his gun tight in his right hand, and he felt his senses on high alert in anticipation of any incoming danger. If his timing was even slightly off, there was a chance Wade and the ‘vampire’ would die in the flames. He struggled to control his heart-rate; he knew that the worst thing in warfare was to panic, as even the slightest change in ones senses or reaction time could mean instant death, but he needed to make amends for his mistake. There were two lives that depended upon him.

The laboratory was left open, which was suspicious. There was no sign of Francis, who was due to be on duty this same evening, but the mutant – called a ‘vampire’, despite Cable’s scepticism – was still strapped to the upright table and looked severely malnourished. He looked up as Cable entered, sniffing at the air as if he detected the smoke, while Wade pulled himself to the surface of his tank and watched the two of them.

It did not take long to reach the mutant. Cable unsheathed his blade and ripped open the constraints that held the man in place, before he caught him in his fall from the table. The man took longer than planned to fully be able to stand alone, taking sips of water from a canteen in one of Cable’s pockets, and soon he looked substantially better than he had done just moments previous. The very act of freedom tore a weight from his shoulders, so that the relief shone through every pore and his face became infinitely more expressive.

“Can you walk?” Cable asked.

The man gave a nod, as he wiped his mouth of the water that spilled. He seemed unsure what to do with his newfound freedom, hesitant to be honest around Cable or to trust Cable in any way, and he handed back the canteen with a certain wariness. Those eyes struggled to adjust to the light, while his nostrils flared in response to the smoke that was slowly starting to fill the room. They needed to leave as soon as possible.

“Just about,” muttered the man.

“Good.” Cable handed him the knife. “Keep this with you. Take Wade from the tank; you need to both go left outside, heading straight for the window, it should slide open. You will be safe to jump. I have men waiting beneath to catch you.”

“What about you? Are you going to follow?”

“I have something I must do first.”

The man nodded, as if he suspected the truth. He stumbled over to the tank and stood with open arms beneath Wade, who – even with the man standing tall at five-eleven – struggled to pull himself over the edge and into the man’s arms. There was a large splash of water, soaking both the mutant and the mermaid, and yet it looked like it refreshed them both to encounter water and air respectively, as Wade clung to the other’s neck.

 _‘Going somewhere_?’

Francis stood in the laboratory doorway. There was a burn across his face, which indicated that he was caught in the fire at some point, but he must have returned upstairs before the area was locked off. He looked furious to an extreme degree, so that his eyes were like glass and his knuckles were white under the force of his fists, and he was breathing too quickly to fully allow himself control of his senses. He stared intently at Wade.

He then charged.

Francis was a large man, but surprisingly quick. He aimed right for the two mutants, launching himself over the central table to reach them, and – in total panic – the mutant of unknown name dropped Wade and ran back to his table. It left Wade completely defenceless on the cold floor, body and tail so scarred that just moving was a chore in itself, but the venom in his eyes made it clear how he welcomed any fight to come. Cable raised his gun to shoot, but there came a horribly high-pitched sound from Wade, like nails on a chalkboard.

“Don’t you dare fucking shoot!”

Wade waited until Francis bent low to tackle him, before he grabbed at his ankles and wrenched them toward him, which sent the captor hurtling behind onto his back, where there came a sickening sound of skull upon tile. There was still a great strength to Wade; he had worked out to the best of his ability in confinement, forcing himself to eat whenever food was available, and so he moved over Francis with a deal of speed almost enviable.

The two fought and wrestled upon the floor, with Francis occasionally getting the upper hand, and – at times – Cable feared he would lose Wade entirely. Punches were thrown and blood was shed. Francis soon had Wade’s head between his hands, bashing it continuously upon the hard floor, until the merman was no doubt seeing stars, until Wade let out another loud scream and flipped the two of them over with admirable strength. His arms locked around Francis’ neck. His hands gripped flesh tight. There came a sickening snap of broken bone.

“What’s your name now, bitch?”

“Who cares?” The other mutant snapped: “Let’s go.”

Francis’ body fell limp to the floor. Wade had broken his neck with surprising skill, and the mutant that ran to him – lifting him by his waist and letting Wade’s arm grip his shoulders – appeared not to notice the tooth spat from Wade’s mouth or the split lip he sported. The two of them struggled out of the laboratory, while Cable walked over to Francis and stood over him with gun pointed at his skull, mainly out of the lingering desire to shoot him.

“Look’s like I found you,” said Cable.

Francis’ eyes looked lifelessly up.

“My men have plans for you.”

* * *

The cove was several miles away.

It took a considerable amount of time to reach; Wade needed a large amount of water to keep comfortable, while the vampire feared being enclosed, and the option settled upon was to place a large amount of plastic down at the back of the flatbed truck, to create what became essentially a small pool. The truck stopped only for Cable to remove Wade and what was left of his work, before the water was drained and his team drove away for their base.

There was a strange feeling off loss as they left. He knew that he would never need call upon them again for help, while he would never again need work undercover in order to gain access to research or laboratories that he needed, and he knew that he would never get to see his research through to the end. Cable carried Wade along the beach alone, until they came to the cove and he was able to drop the merman into the fresh water with a groan of relief, and Wade gave a noise quite similar in turn, as he relished in his freedom.

It was not perfect, but it would do.

Tony Stark owned the private beach, which would give them some privacy, and Tony’s state-of-the-art security would mean little risk of stray tourists or illegal boats in the area, which gave a sense of sanctuary in these parts. The waters were unpolluted and had easy access to the sea, with a bearable journey to the beaches where Cable first found Wade, so that – should he stay underwater – he could find his way back to his people, and there was plenty of fish and some seaweed to keep him well nourished. He would be safe here.

“Wade, I need you to speak to me,” said Cable.

Stark Tower – at least the British division – stood high on a cliff nearby. The high cliffs gave them some privacy, especially as there were no artificial lights in these areas, but there was still great risk in remaining in these lands. Wade appeared to revel in the cove; he would splash water over himself, so that it would soak into his scarred and bare skin, or duck under the water simply to re-emerge with tears and laughter, before he would float upon his back.

“If you will not talk, simply listen.” Cable watched him with a sad smile. “I made sure all my work was leaked to Stark, while any records left were destroyed, but I have retained just enough of the techno-organic material to give to myself. It will enable me to be like you, so that I can help lead you back to your people. It is the least I can do.”

“No, the least you can do is to go fucking die in a pit,” spat Wade. “I lost my hair, I lost my tail, and I even lost my _baby_ . . . you think acting like a living-crutch will make that all go away? Consider this a divorce. You ain’t shit to me any more.”

“I did not know how far they would go. I needed samples from you for my research; this could change the world, Wade, so that it could cure hundreds of thousands of people, save potentially millions of lives, and – yes – I thought a short-while in captivity would be worth such a result. I had no idea they would experiment upon you or torture you, not as they did, and I rescued you the moment I was able. My intentions were good, Wade.”

Wade laughed a bitter and dangerous laugh. He floated across the water in a rather childlike manner, with gills open as the waters lapped against his neck, and Cable felt a bitter sense of regret that he rescued Wade after they had been burnt, for now they could not properly close when out of the water. The stars above shone down on Wade for the first time in too long to count, while he smiled despite his pain, and his fingers would twitch upon the water, as if searching for something no one else could see. There was still something beautiful in him.

“You used to talk about making a utopia,” said Wade.

He tried to roll over on the water, but – without use of his tail – he struggled. Wade soon fell beneath the surface, where he flailed about much like a drowning man, and soon he managed to keep himself mostly upright with a huge amount of strain and balance. There was a flush to his cheeks. He looked humiliated by his newfound lack of ability, as he kept throwing himself in Cable’s direction, unable to swim or move without such gestures.

“You going to build ‘Providence’ on the blood of mutants?”

“I will build it in honour of mutants,” said Cable. “In honour of those lost. I will do right by those that I allowed come to harm, by making sure that no mutant ever suffers again. Allow me to help you, Wade. I can take you back to where you came. You can go home.”

There was a long silence. Wade scratched at a scab upon his neck, where the tubes were usually placed inside the lab for various reasons, and soon he moved his way over to the shore which he leaned against with a great deal of grace. He felt the sand under his hands, while his cheek pressed down on the coolness of the beach, and he heaved a long sigh that made it clear he still suffered under the strain of recent events. There would be no way of knowing what long-term effects there were, until they reached a healer of Wade’s kind.

“I ain’t got no home any more,” said Wade. “Look at me.”

“You are a good soul, Wade, that’s all that matters.”

“Ain’t you a sweet-talker? Good soul, crap body.”

It was apparent that Wade’s sense of humour had survived. Cable gave a soft laugh despite himself, as he reached out for the needle beside the few pieces of his work, and – as he opened the paper and assembled the needle – he realised that these changes could well be permanent. He pierced the lid of the vial with the techno-organic materials, never tested upon any living specimens, and realised that he would be the guinea pig to his creation.

“I swear I will get you to safety, Wade,” said Cable.

He pressed the needle against his vein.

The change was far from quick.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

# Chapter Ten

Wade looked heartbroken.

He had moved during the previous revelations, so that he now lay flat upon the sand and in plain sight, but he had burrowed and fidgeted in such a way that there were small walls of sand around the sides of his body and tail. The water blocked a lot from view, but it looked like his hands were clenching and unclenching, making little sandcastles that would immediately be smashed down, before rebuilding afresh.

Cable floated not far from Peter; he looked out towards the sea, as if in search of something hidden out of sight, and not once did he look down to Wade hidden beneath the surface, a fact that galled Peter more than he could describe. The temperature began to fall. It was growing dark outside, particularly in the cove enclosed on all sides with high cliffs, and Peter began to feel the chill barely dressed and soaked to the skin, so much so that he would have to leave soon to avoid catching his death. The idea of leaving Wade at all felt like torture.

It was no wonder that Wade wanted to avoid the discussion.

Peter slid himself into the water. He felt a jolt of adrenaline and terror in equal measure, as the incline left no warning as to its abrupt end, and he felt his feet hit nothing but emptiness. The instinct to fight against the water was too strong; he began to panic and splashed dangerously, desperately trying to get a hold of something in hopes of gaining some stability, but – the more he fought – the more water he swallowed and the harder it became to breathe.

“Easy, there,” said Cable. “You will accomplish nothing by drowning.”

There came two strong hands upon his upper arms; Peter flung out his forearms and grasped in sheer fear upon two shoulders, using them to keep afloat and heaving for breath, until he looked up and saw Cable looking back upon him. It felt like a betrayal. This was the man that led Wade to his torture, although also the man that had meant so much to Wade and had eventually saved him, and Peter no longer knew how to feel about him. Peter stilled and let himself calm, although – every time Cables so much as twitched – he grasped harder in panic.

“I need to speak to Wade,” said Peter lamely.

“You cannot swim,” replied Cable.

“I – I don’t need to swim, I just need to – er – sink.” Peter blushed in embarrassment. “Look, I just need to get down there for a second . . . I just need to hold him, so I can let him know that I don’t think any less of him and I still love him just as much. This isn’t weakness, Cable, but bravery. Wade is the bravest man I know! I – I need him to know that.”

Cable gave an unusual smile. It confused Peter for a moment, until he saw the much older man nod his head downward, and Peter – with a sense of both curiosity and dread – looked down through the waters to see the cause of his good humour. He saw Wade now sitting upright; the merman had pulled his tail up to wrap his arms around it, while he threw back his head and looked back up in turn. Wade smiled through his pain.

“I think he already knows,” said Cable.

The older merman gently guided Peter to the shore. It felt strange to be back against the sand, but it would be infinitely safer than trying to dive to the seafloor without an aid, and yet he couldn’t take his eyes away from Wade. They were an entire world apart, yet they had never felt closer than that precise moment. Peter turned to reach out to his partner, hoping that Wade would understand the gesture, but – with a lack of balance – nearly plunged back into the water, which left Cable to heave him up and force him onto the sands.

“What happened?” Peter asked. “When you got back?”

“I settled in very well,” admitted Cable. “I learned their language quickly; at first they wanted to learn mainly about the human race, so they could study our language and put context to our wreckage, but they soon learned that I have extensive knowledge in regards to science. They are not a primitive people, unlike what our media would have us believe.”

“So . . . you were able to teach them about science?”

“They were able to teach me, just as I taught them. I was eventually able to work with them to adapt my techno-organic material; this was long after Wade left, however, as he felt unable to readjust to society with the changes that overcame him. My material is at a point where it can replace organs and limbs in mermaids and mermen, to keep them alive when they would otherwise die, and we are also able to keep it from overcoming the organism.”

Peter sat upon the edge of the shore. The waters came high upon him, enough to cool his limbs and give him a chill, but he refused to move from his spot. He needed to keep his eyes upon Wade, ever fearful about the other man’s reactions or departure, and it was something of a reassurance to keep him in his sights. Those shredded fins looked all the more prominent, as they stood out against the darkness and in the depths, so that Peter felt a dark sense of sadness that someone could be allowed to suffer so needlessly. He asked gently:

“Could you fix Wade’s fins? Could he swim?”

“It is possible.” Cable smiled. “The difficulty would be in getting him to trust a medical practitioner, especially myself, as it would require an injection to his tail area. You can understand his phobia of such figures of authority, I would imagine.”

They remained in silence for a long moment. The cold was growing too much to bear, although nothing like winters back in New York, and he wrapped his arms around himself in a desperate need to keep warm. He looked down and saw goosebumps, while Cable gave him an almost sympathetic expression, as if in memory of what ‘cold’ once felt like to him. Wade moved below, although only to the other side of the cove, and it looked as if his tail had begun to seize up and he required movement to loosen it again.

“Why did Wade leave?” Peter asked.

“He believed people stared at him,” explained Cable. “He could not swim without assistance, but he was also not willing to ask for assistance. I also fear that he retained too much of his previous personality. You may remember that I stayed behind in the fire, so that I was alone with the body of Francis, but what I did not reveal was that I brought the body to the shore, so that Wade’s people could decide what to do with him.”

Cable ducked beneath the surface once more. He re-emerged with his silver hair slicked to his skull, while the scar on his eye shone with the moisture, and – if Peter had any interest in much older men – he could have seen what Wade must have seen so long ago. The older man splashed his face with water, before he looked back over to the sea, and Peter now realised that he longed to go back to what was now ‘home’ for him. Cable turned to face Peter with a rather sombre expression, as he gave a sound much like a hiss of breath and said:

“They decided on leaving the body to the local wildlife.”

“Well, that’s more than he deserved, he –”

“They were unable to act upon such a decision.” Cable sighed. “There is a path down below, one that leads to a crossroads to several of our villages, and – should you ever dive that far – you will find skull tied to the signpost there. No one can work out what happened to the body, or how Wade managed his actions. He has been in self-imposed exile since.”

Peter gave a visible flinch. There was something frightening in that Wade – despite his disability – could find some way of desecrating the body, even if he had to crawl or seek for help in doing so, and Peter dreaded to think what understandable level of resentment must have lingered toward such a monster. It wasn’t right for Wade to feel segregated from his people, all for something that Francis did to him, and Peter felt his stomach churn in an overwhelming sense of sickness. Peter wanted to help him. He swallowed hard and asked:

“What if – what if I used some of the techno-organic material?”

There was a long pause from Cable, as he observed Peter with a hard eye. He moved closer to the shore, until he was above eye-level with Peter, despite still being mostly in the water and his tail fully submerged, and he must have been extremely tall as a human. The gesture reminded Peter of his aunt, like a person trying to exert authority and explain to him something that he ought already have known. Cable opened his mouth to speak –

“No, think about it!” Peter blushed. “I could help administer the medicine; he would trust me, so he would _finally_ be able to swim again. I could also help him in settling back in, or maybe I could just travel with him so he wouldn’t feel lonely . . . it must be awful to be so alone.”

Peter slumped over. He rubbed the back of his neck, as memories of his childhood flooded back, and he remembered how awful it felt to be so completely alone, to the point – like Wade with Cable – he placed his trust and love in the wrong people. The muscles in his back and shoulders ached, while he began to feel tired with emotional exhaustion, and he barely noticed as Cable pulled himself into a sitting position next to Peter. Cable said nothing at first, as he leaned back upon his hands, but when he spoke it was gentle and patient.

“Do you know what is a ‘mutant’?”

“I have a feeling I’m about to stand corrected, regardless,” teased Peter.

“The obvious answer would be a person whose DNA is a mutation of those that came before,” said Cable. “It means that werewolves and mermen are considered mutants to humans, as their DNA is a mutation of ours, however those same ‘mutants’ often use the equivalent word in their languages to refer to us. It matters not which came first, as the techno-organic virus cannot be made universal. There must be two versions.”

“Okay, so – so what are you saying? If your version of the material is aimed at mutants, I could always ask Tony to borrow the original version that you sent to him. I could adapt it the way that you did, or you could adapt it for us, or maybe we could –”

“I could adapt my version quite easily, but it would take at least twenty-four hours.” Cable frowned and shook his head. “My main objection is that the changes are permanent, Peter. You would develop gills like mine, with a metallic hue, and a tail made of the same material, but this comes at the cost of your humanity. Can you seriously live without your aunt or friends?”

The question hung heavy in the air. He looked down to Wade; a selfish part of him hoped that Wade could be made human instead, but he already suffered so much and such a huge change could easily be too much to bear, especially when all he knew was below the waves. It was impossible to think of life without his aunt, without MJ, without Ava or Sam, and even Tony had become an important part of his life in recent months. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to envision a life away from everyone he loved, everyone except Wade.

“Permanent?”

“You have known Wade only a few months,” said Cable.

Peter kept his eyes locked upon Wade. There wasn’t enough time to make a long-term commitment, not really, and even with Gwen they had been dating since the age of fifteen, so that three years had passed before he proposed. Wade grieved his old relationships and old life, even the loss of his child, and he was older by enough that he would want very different things at this stage of their lives. It was a lot to consider.

The problem was that Peter couldn’t think of a life without Wade, so that every day he spent time by the waters and basked in his partner’s company, and every thought in the past few weeks was about _how_ they could be together forever. Wade didn’t pity him about Skip, because he _understood_ what that kind of abuse did to the psyche, and he didn’t offer insincere platitudes about Gwen, because he _knew_ what grief was like to endure. Wade was another half to him, someone that just fitted into his life, so it was as if he had always been there.

“It’s long enough,” said Peter.

Cable appeared sceptical. It was a fair response, as even Peter felt his stomach churn with a sense of fear and reluctance, because to live with someone – to move to a new _world_ for them – was a massive compromise and a massive sacrifice. If anything went wrong, Peter would be stranded among strangers and never able to return home. He felt his heart race, while the cold wind only added to his shivering fear, and it took Cable a long time to break the silence. The older man spoke with a great amount of resignation, as well as doubt:

“Very well, I will have it ready.”

‘ _Have what ready_?’

Tony appeared at the cove entrance.

The response from Cable was instantaneous; he threw himself forward and dove into the waters, where he moved with exceptional speed and elegance toward Wade, and offered the scarred merman his arm for stability and safe movement. Wade looked confused, but Peter gave him a nod and quickly gestured to the sea. The two mermen left with relative ease, as Wade clung to Cable like a crutch, and Peter – despite his trust in Wade – felt a huge surge of jealousy that he could cling so intimately to a person to whom he was once married.

Tony gave a cough, as he climbed down the rocks. He looked incredibly angry, enough that his face was flushed and he looked like he had come straight from the lab, and he glared at Peter in such a way that he felt almost five years old. There was a long coat in the other man’s hand, which he threw to Peter almost casually. He was grateful for the gesture. The sky above was pitch-black now, and the water was so cold against his skin.

“Peter? Care to explain?”

Peter stood up and slipped on the coat, which came down to his knees, and he wrapped it around him and caught a scent that seemed an awful lot like Tony’s cologne, which made him realise the coat probably came from Tony’s private wardrobe. He walked over to Tony slowly, as he kept his head down in shame at having kept such a secret, but – despite his uncle’s teachings to always be honest – he began to think about ways to explain the situation so Wade could stay safe, so Tony would maybe believe nothing was out of the norm.

Before he could say one word, Tony said coldly:

“We need to talk, kiddo.”


	11. Chapter 11

# Chapter Eleven

“He’s a mermaid, Peter!”

Peter rolled his eyes and sat upon the rocks. They were rough and cold against his bare legs, while the sand had worked its way between his toes into a gritty paste, and he began to long to be back home in a warm bed. He remembered how Wade described ‘beds’ below the waves to be more like ‘hammocks’, something that Peter couldn’t quite imagine, but he began to envy Wade for not having to endure the night-time cold. It was unbearable.

There were shadows down beneath the waves, near to the central rock in the cove entrance, and it lent the impression that Wade – if not Cable, too – lurked just out of sight to perhaps listen to the conversation at hand. It was difficult to see in the dark, but Peter simply pulled the coat tighter around him and watched with a curious interest. The sea beyond moved with crashing waves, each sound soothing and rhythmic, and the moon began to peak out from over the cliffs to offer some natural light to the sands below, which was a gift in itself.

“You keep saying,” muttered Peter.

“He lives under the sea,” said Tony. “You live on land! It’s like that saying about the bird and the fish that fall in love, because they have to make a home somewhere, right? Most people argue what religion to raise the kids, not whether to get a pet dog or a pet shark.”

“You’re completely trivialising the situation, it’s not just –”

“Peter, you’re like a son to me. I’ve known you since you were fifteen; you lost Gwen and you completely shut yourself away for _months_ , so what do you think will happen this time around _knowing_ this will end badly? You have different histories, different cultures, different languages, different diets . . . you can’t breathe underwater, just like he can’t walk on land.”

There was no denying the truth to those words. Peter looked down through the water, as he thought about the snippets of Wade’s society he learned about, and he then remembered the culture shock that came with moving to England. It was difficult to be away from his aunt, even with video calls and postcards, and he hated how the food was different, the etiquette was different, and even the fashions that slightly varied, so to go to a whole new world was almost beyond comprehension. Wade’s people didn’t even believe in _clothes_.

Peter blushed and slid his hands into the coat pockets, where he fingered a matchbook and what felt like several bolts, and he began to question Tony’s lifestyle based off the contents of what he kept upon him. It was possible to adjust to a new society, but the prerequisite for that was to be able to physically survive there first. Peter felt his empty ring finger with his thumb, as he remembered what loss felt like, and swore never to lose anyone else again.

“There’s a way around that.”

“Yeah?” Tony asked. “Tell me.”

Tony stood close beside him; there was a scent like sweat in the air, while he looked somewhat irritated by everything about the cove, and Peter began to suspect that someone had called Tony up – perhaps having spotted Wade or Peter – and forced the billionaire philanthropist away from an otherwise pleasurable activity. It was enough to make Peter blush further and run a hand over his face, as he desperately went over his actions during the day and tried to think how Tony could have known about where he went.

“You – er – you smell like – ah –”

“Sex?” Tony looked down over his clothes. “You have creepily keen senses, you know that? It’s even creepier when we were doing it in the shower; you’d have thought the water would’ve washed all that away, but I guess nothing gets past you, kid.”

“Look, I’m just saying . . . if you were busy . . . we can talk –”

“I’m here, aren’t I? We can talk about this now.”

Tony clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder, where he squeezed in a reassuring gesture, and it seemed that nothing had changed since the day they first met, when Tony had practically broken into his house to offer him a scholarship. It was one Peter rejected, unwilling to tie himself to an employer before he even graduated, but they had stayed in touch ever since, something that Peter appreciated every single day. He smiled back at Tony.

“What do you know about techno-organic material?” Peter asked.

There was a long pause, as Tony gave a loud exhale of breath. He looked out over the cove, as if to be sure the mermen were gone, before he leaned against the rocks and stood next to Peter with a shrug of his shoulders. They remained quiet for some time. The sound of the waves was the only reminder that time passed them by, while the moon slowly dipped in and out of the clouds, sometimes casting them in darkness and sometimes offering light, and it was almost strange when Tony spoke, as if he were breaking some spell.

“I know it started off as a virus,” admitted Tony. “There was a man named Nathan Summers, went by the name ‘Cable’; some called him a vigilante and others a mercenary, but – ultimately – he was a just a killer who was picky about where he sold his services. One day the guy’s over in Russia, stepping on some other dude’s turf, only to come across this virus that can turn living flesh into metal. Eventually the metal consumes the host, killing them.

“Rumour had it that Cable destroyed the lab and killed the scientists, taking the virus with him, and – I got to say – that adds up, because a few years later he sent me samples and data about the material he had been working on, using the virus as a basis. He told me to take credit, but I’m not that kind of guy . . . his name’s on as co-researcher for everything.”

Peter nodded in acknowledgement. Tony would have contributed just as much to perfect the material, so it made sense for both men to be acknowledged, but this was the first time that Peter could recall Tony ever mentioning the work or the work being mentioned in general. If it was still in the experimental stages, it would make sense to try and keep it out of the papers, but Tony wasn’t one to back out of free publicity. Peter shivered as a breeze struck through the cover and caught his wet hair, before he asked softly:

“What did you do with the research?”

“We’ve been using it to help people,” said Tony. “I’ve been selling it in the States to rich folk that want limbs re-grown or to skip waiting lists for organs, and then using those profits to give the procedure for free to underprivileged communities worldwide, as well as slipping a few bucks into my renewable energy research. We’re hoping – with time – to get some mutant samples of DNA, along with stem cell material, and one day even curing cancer.”

“Well, that’s pretty noble, but the material is capable of so much more.” Peter nervously scratched at his neck. “Cable . . . well . . . he – he was able to use the material to change a human into a merman, which is where he went, and I thought maybe I could do the same?”

“Are you asking me or telling me? Look, Peter, it sounds like you’re trying to say you could become a mermaid to be with your fish-buddy. I’m not saying the material _couldn’t_ be used to do that, but I am saying it’d be unethical and probably permanent, and you’d have to be a total fool to want to give up life here. You’d never see May again, for one thing.”

Peter froze where he stood. He turned to look at Tony; the older man stroked at his goatee with a strange expression, while his shirt began to emit a light in the darkness, and Peter looked down to instead focus on the light from the reactor. There was no slowing the way his heart raced, especially as the nervousness grew, and it felt strange to be told by someone like Tony that he ‘couldn’t’ do something, even if he already knew it to be true. Peter asked:

“W-what do you mean?”

There came a heavy sigh, as Tony turned to face him. The older man leant against the rocks on one arm, while the other gesticulated in a wild manner, and he lowered his head to give Peter a stern gaze despite how the seriousness didn’t quite suit him. He looked like a child trying to play the part of a grown up, as if he were trying to parent Peter in May’s place, and it didn’t quite play out the way that Tony likely intended, so that he looked he was sharing the punch-line to a joke than he was issuing a warning.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“No,” said Peter.

“I’d look after her for you,” said Tony. “I’d make sure money gets sent over, probably move back to our American base, so I can keep an eye on her, but you honestly telling me that you think you can just keep in touch or meet up every so often? Won’t happen.”

“Give me one good reason, Tony. Just one.”

“Well, how about an entire _ocean_ between you, for one thing?” Tony rolled his eyes. “The mermaid villages are all around the British Isles and Nordic countries, right? That means you _might_ get as far as Icelandic waters, if you’re lucky, but – after that – you would be totally on your own. Let’s assume May knew to get to the coast, waited for you on some beach . . . it’d mean you and Wade living entirely alone and fending for yourselves in uninhabited waters.”

Peter opened his mouth to retort, before something struck him and silenced him. This was the first time that Tony had seen a mermaid, as well as the first time listening to Peter’s confession, and none of their conversation had focussed upon the mermaid population as a whole, not even their biology or their language. Sure, Peter knew that there were no mermaids anywhere else in the globe, but it shouldn’t have been too much for Tony to believe they were everywhere, including across the Atlantic. Peter asked coldly:

“How do you know where their villages are?”

“I bugged your phone,” said Tony.

The cove no longer felt so cold. Peter felt his body begin to shake with rage, as his heart rate sped to a dangerous level and his skin began to break in a nervous sweat, and he couldn’t look away from Tony even if he tried. There was no shame in Tony’s expression, not even an iota of guilt, and he simply quirked an eyebrow as if Peter were the one acting inappropriately in response to what had been said. Peter struggled to keep calm as he asked:

“You did _what_?”

“Hey, you signed a waiver!” Tony crossed his arms and leaned into Peter. “I _told_ you when you joined Stark Enterprises, I have a right to monitor any and all communications on company time and using company property. Your phone has a small microphone in it, so I can hear everything you do, even if you aren’t using it. It’s simple, but effective.”

“That – that – that’s a complete violation of my human rights!”

“I only ever listened during company hours while you were working. To be honest, I never usually bother, but you mentioned potential mermaids when you first came to work for me and – well – it piqued my interest. I thought I’d listen in while you were in the cove, just to see if anything happened, make sure you were safe, only then Wade popped up and you guys got to talking . . . looks like I made the right call, huh?”

They stood in silence for a long while; there was a movement from by the rock in the cove entrance, where the water rippled and strange patterns appeared beneath the surface, and Peter wondered whether one of the mermen had surfaced just out of sight, to listen in on their conversation. He wanted to tell them that he was innocent. There was no way he would have let their conversations be monitored had he known, but – instead – he turned his focus onto Tony and tried to argue his cause. He wanted to be with Wade, no one else.

“I could use technology to keep in touch with May,” said Peter.

“Oh, yeah, _sure_ ,” muttered Tony. “Who’s going to charge it or put money on a phone? Let’s assume Cable or I make you a waterproof one, you think you’ll get a signal six leagues under the sea? I also proved how easy they are to hack, so let’s hope no one like Killebrew ever listens in, else they’ll be trawling the ocean floor for your villages.”

Peter clenched his hands into fists, but it was difficult to be too angry. He knew that Tony was right, because all technology had limitations and weaknesses, and it would be difficult – perhaps even impossible – to create a device that could send a signal from under the sea to a device on land, especially when it could be hacked. It wouldn’t usually be an issue, but the idea someone could learn about the connection between him and his aunt -?

It would put her in danger. If there was a mutant out there, with a connection to a human, they could use her for leverage in getting him to come to the surface, to capture him and abuse him and even to sell him. He ran a hand over his face and remembered how some mutants had body parts removed as ‘good luck’ charms, or to be put into ‘spells’ or ‘potions’, much like wild animals in the past, and he couldn’t bear to think about such an existence. The only thing worse would be for it to happen to someone he knew, someone like –

“Ava!” Peter swallowed hard. “Did you hear about Ava?”

“Nothing is recorded,” admitted Tony. “Everything I may or may not hear gets automatically deleted, and my memory – eh – it’s not what it’s used to be. People say you can get your brains fucked out, so maybe that’s happened one too many times and – well – who’s to say I remember anything about was said about her? I don’t remember anything.”

“Thank you. I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to her, especially after hearing all that Wade went through, but that still doesn’t let you off the hook for eavesdropping, Tony! Seriously, you have -! Wait, why _were_ you listening?”

“Like I said, with a few samples we could cure cancer.”

There was another silence, as Tony glanced over to the waters. The older man shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, as the reactor gave off just enough light to attract a moth, and – at any other time – it may have made Peter laugh to see such a sight. It was too cold to really stand around much longer; Peter was still soaking wet beneath the coat, along with his hair that clung to his skin, and he just wanted to sleep and get away from the cove. In less than twenty-four hours, none of this would be an issue, but until then:

“You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” said Tony. “Nearly the entirety of the floor beneath the lab has been turned into an aquarium; we have local sands on the bottom, local wildlife inside, and set the levels perfectly to mimic the sea out here. I even bought a crap-load of seaweed; I didn’t even know you could get multiple kinds, but you learn something new every day! I got some imported especially, just so he’d get something new to taste.”

“Tony, a zoo is still a zoo, and a cage is still a cage!”

Peter rounded on him and fought the urge to push him. It wouldn’t do to get into a physical fight, as much as he was tempted to defend Wade and make his point to Tony, and he respected his mentor far too much to even try to land a blow. A lifetime of defending himself from bullies, along with a naturally wiry frame, made it easy to defend himself and dodge blows, but it made it nearly impossible for him to get into a real fight and win, and that was to say nothing of how irresponsible and unprofessional it would be to act that way.

“You can’t keep him locked up like that!”

“It’s better conditions than he has at the moment,” said Tony.

“No, Tony!” Peter felt his hands shake in anger. “You are not taking his freedom from him! I swear I’d rather have Wade leave me than to see him suffer in a cage, and you’re acting no better than Cable by trying to force in him into this against his will!”

“Peter, I’ll free him once I have what I need. It’ll be a month at most.”

“A month is too long when he’s –!”

Peter bit his tongue to prevent from lashing out. He looked out to the waters and envisioned boats trawling the floor, scientists surrounding the cove on its shores, and Wade lost out there – unwilling to go home and trapped by humans – simply waiting to be brought to land, and the thought was simply unbearable. Tony needed a specimen, fine, but there had to be ways around that. The wind grew cold and picked up speed, as Peter shuddered and spoke.

“What if you use me instead?”

There was a long silence. The idea of being locked in a tank and studied felt both humiliating and frightening, but it would be better for him to go in – sound of mind and knowing what to expect – than a man with post-traumatic stress and a phobia of all medical practitioners. Wade would be able to go on living as he did, while Peter could bite the bullet and take all the hassle for him, and it wasn’t as if Peter hadn’t made sacrifices in the past. Tony didn’t look like he took the idea well, however, as he gave a long hiss of breath.

“Come again, kid?”

“C-Cable says he needs just twenty-four hours to get the material ready,” said Peter. “If – if you wait just that long, I can go in the tank in Wade’s place . . . I’m not scared of you, I know you’ll release me after the month like you say . . . it’s the perfect solution! Wade doesn’t deserve to be locked up again, he can carry on living while I –”

“Peter, no. Just -!” Tony shook his head. “No.”

Tony rounded on Peter and took him by the upper arms. The grip was firm enough to almost bruise, while there was an obvious panic in Tony’s eyes, and he seemed desperate to get Peter to look at him and remain looking at him. It hurt to be shook, but he could see just how afraid the older man was at the prospect of losing him, and so he simply swatted Tony away and took a step back, giving them both enough distance to calm down.

“I’m not going to let you do that,” ordered Tony.

“Why not? It could work and -!”

“You’re like a son to me.” Tony looked away. “I swore to May that I’d look out for you, which means _not_ letting you permanently alter your DNA and become part of an experiment in medical advancement. Plus, Bruce would absolutely kill me.”

“This isn’t about May or Bruce, it’s about –”

“Look, Peter, I’ll cut you a deal: twenty-four hours. You get Wade out of here in that time, I swear on my parents’ grave that I’ll say nothing more about any of this, but if he’s still here then it’s fair game, Peter. I’m not going to give up a chance to help save millions of lives, but I can understand your objections . . . _make sure he’s where I can’t find him_. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you _and_ these shores, so make sure he goes home.”

The older man raised his hand and pointed it an inch from Peter’s nose. It was less threatening than it was a warning, because Tony clearly wanted to emphasise that he meant business, and that meant Wade’s only choice was to get out of there. The only problem was that – if Wade went back to his village – they would never be able to see each other again, never be able to kiss again, to confide in each other again . . . Tony would likely hide his side of the research, too, so Peter wouldn’t even be able to chase after him . . .

“I can’t make him go home,” said Peter.

“Try.” Tony gave him a dark look. “If he goes anywhere else, I’ll find him.”

Peter knew it was reasonable; Tony could have boats and men down there in a matter of less than an hour, taking Wade without any hesitation, but instead he gave them time to say goodbye and get Wade to safety. The only problem was that Peter didn’t want to leave Wade, especially not like this and under force, but these shores and the cove would be watched with heavy surveillance once the time-limit was up, preventing them from being together.

“Twenty-four hours, Peter,” warned Tony.

“It’s all I need, I swear.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

# Chapter Twelve

“Wade? Wade!”

Peter looked over the cove.

It was impossible to see anything this late at night; the sky was black, so that even the stars and moon seemed to hide behind clouds, and there was no light source for some distance, which only added to the shadows and darkness. Peter knelt down beside the water, dressed in a formal pair of trousers and an old shirt, as he aimlessly splashed at the waters to try and get the attention of anyone below. There was no reply and no sound.

“Wade, please, we don’t have time!”

There was no way to get his partner’s attention, assuming he was still below, and Peter began to feel his heart race in panic. A cold sweat broke over his skin. He felt patches underneath his armpits, as well as along the neckline of his shirt, and he used all his self-control to control his breathing, as he looked around and looked for anything he could drop into the waters below. Peter noticed a small pebble. It was left nearby the pile of seashells, still there after all those months, and Peter remembered Wade saving it due to it shape.

It looked beautiful, shaped smooth by waters and cracked to reveal what looked like crystal in inside, and something that would sink relatively well in the water. He hated to break apart Wade’s collection, but it was the only way. Peter grabbed the pebble and felt around the shore until he came to the right point, near to where Wade usually slept below, and – praying his aim was true and Wade was there – he dropped it from high.

Nothing happened at first.

Peter timed the fall; it should have hit Wade, if Wade were sleeping in his usual spot, but there was no response and no sign of the other man. He began to suspect Wade had gone back to his village, which was both a relief and a living horror, because – as much as he needed Wade to be safe – he couldn’t bear to think of a life without him. Luckily, there soon came some movement on the surface, enough to cause Peter to splash and shout yet again, and Wade eventually clawed his way to the shore, where he collapsed on the edge.

“Why the fuck did you wake me up?”

“Wade, I need you to listen to –”

“It’s fucking stupid o’clock!” Wade pouted. “Like, I may not know time, but I know it’s too early for you to visit and too late for you to be awake! You dropped a stone on my fucking balls, man! That hurt! Couldn’t you have aimed for the head or arm or –”

Peter leaned down and pulled Wade into a kiss. It shut him up almost immediately; Wade tried to talk for a little while longer, but soon stopped when he felt tongue and began to move his lips against Peter’s in a pattern that was all too familiar and all too natural. Wade’s lips were always rough, while his mouth often tasted like iron, but he kissed well – never with too much or too little tongue – and made perfect noises that were always a turn-on. Peter only pulled away when he felt hands attempt to undo his clothing, and slapped Wade’s hand.

“I’m not here for that,” said Peter.

“Then why’d you kiss me?”

“To get you to shut up!” Peter pressed a chaste kiss to Wade’s cheek. “I need you to listen to me, okay? If you’re still here tomorrow evening, Tony will trawl these waters and he’ll find you, and he’ll take you to his laboratory and want to keep you there. He won’t hurt you, but he’ll take away your freedom to try and help humanity as a whole. He – he’s a bit like Cable; if he thinks he’s helping humanity, it’s almost worth the discomfort of one person.”

“Yeah, well, what can I do? If I go too far out to sea, you’ll never find me!” Wade gave a pout and pulled himself up to sit on the sands. “I lived my whole life as this worthless little shit, but I always thought maybe – _just maybe_ – someone out there would want me, despite all these scars and the craziness and having more partners than Stark on a good day or –”

“Hey, I am _not_ going to leave you, Wade. I never thought I’d fall in love again after Gwen, but then I met you and I just felt this connection . . . I haven’t regretted a single day we spent together, and I feel so honoured you would trust me after everything humans have done to you, but – well – I guess I’m selfish. I know I should tell you to go home, to forget about me, but I know I would spend _every single day_ just waiting to see you again, thinking about you, wishing I’d gone with you or done something . . . anything . . .”

Peter felt himself blush, as tears began to blur his vision. He gave a shaky smile, while he pulled Wade against him and let his fingers trace over old scars, and he tried to control his breathing as they simply held one another. They had something real, something that could potentially mean a future and a family, but to cut things off now – before they had even given that a chance – felt like giving up. He always swore never to give up on Wade.

“I – I have a plan . . . a bad one, but still . . .”

He stood up and kept his hands low. It took Wade a long time to work out that he needed to take a hold of them, and Peter – with a quick and easy movement – yanked Wade up and held him upright next to him, with one hand around his waist and Wade’s arms around his neck. It was Wade’s turn to blush. Peter had always been naturally strong, but especially so after years of bullying that led him to working out in private, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his strength topped Wade’s easily. He slowly began to walk them to the rocks.

“Cable needs time to get the techno-organic material, right?”

“Yeah, he said it’ll be done by tomorrow,” said Wade.

“Perfect.” Peter gave a warm smile. “You – you can feel free to disagree, but we know that you can’t stay here without being caught and you can’t go home without losing me, so I – I thought – I thought there could be a compromise . . . maybe. J-Just temporarily!”

Peter helped Wade on top of the rocks. The merman looked out over the cove curiously, as he waved his tail loosely to distract himself, and Peter – taking out a laminated page from his inside pocket – ran to Wade’s seashell pile and placed it in prominent view of the cove, with a heavy set of seashells to keep it from blowing away. He also took a permanent marker and left a brief note on the cove wall, just in case, so Cable would still see the gist.

“What’re you doing?” Wade asked. “That ain’t writing.”

“It’s human writing,” said Peter. “I’m – I’m telling Cable that I’m taking you to the bed-and-breakfast down the road; it overlooks the beach, it’s only a brief swim or walk from here, and it has a reputation for being discreet. The idea – if you agree to it – is that I’ll take you there in a wheelchair I’ve borrowed from MJ, just for the night, and meet Cable the next day.”

“Wheelchair? That sounds pretty weird.” Wade tried to flip backwards, but nearly fell back and was saved only by Peter’s quick reflexes. “Why can’t we just spend the night here? I like it here! We can even go to – what’s it called – third base? Homerun?”

“H-Homerun, y-yeah, that’s all that’s – _h-hey, that’s not the point_! I’m trying to tell you that it’s dangerous to stay here, Wade. This’ll be the first place Tony will look, but if we go to the B &B then we can hide from him. I can wheel you to the shore this time tomorrow night, where Cable will wait for us at _that_ end of the beach, away from where Tony will be looking and trawling, and I can take the techno-organic material and go with you back home.”

Wade looked confused. Peter didn’t want to go into too many details, too afraid of overwhelming Wade with extraneous information, but he had forced MJ and Ava into helping him, even borrowing shoes from Sam to put onto the footrests of the wheelchair, in a desperate hope they would convince anyone looking there were a pair of legs. They only needed to a place to crash, at which point they could slip out the following night to meet Cable, taking the injection and swimming away to freedom.

“You’d want to be a merman?” Wade asked.

Peter smiled and reached out to Wade, where he held gently onto the older man’s neck, before he leaned in and placed a loving kiss to his lips. The kiss lasted only for a minute, but it expressed everything that Peter felt in just one gesture. The truth was that he still wished Wade could join him as a human, so they could move home and look after Aunt May, but he knew that there was no other option. He pulled away and gave a slight sigh.

“No,” admitted Peter. “I just want to be with _you_. I want you to be safe, just like I want for you to be happy, and I’ll do absolutely anything to make sure that happens. You just need to wear the clothes and blanket I brought with me, get in the chair, and wait it out with me until the twenty-four hours are up. Then we can go back to your village together.”

“Together? You promise? You would come with me?”

“Together,” swore Peter.

* * *

“For the love of God, Wade!”

Peter ran a hand over his face. There was water all over the tiled bathroom; the towels were soaked to the point they couldn’t be reused, while the floor made a ‘slapping’ noise whenever Peter walked over it, and even the windows were wet enough to look like rain. The bathtub was filled to the brim, but in constant need of being refilled, as Wade seemed incapable of refraining from splashing or overfilling the tub, and Peter was at breaking point.

“It’s seven o’clock,” said Peter. “I’ve not slept and –”

“Why can’t I sleep in the bed?”

The wheelchair sat in the bedroom, close to the French balcony. It had been easy enough to wheel Wade to the bed-and-breakfast, even easy to move him into the elevator and into their room for the night, but that was where everything went wrong. It was suspicious enough booking a room at half-three in the morning, even more so when Peter later asked for some salt to be brought up, and Wade had done nothing but cheer ever since, something that led Peter to wonder exactly what the old couple who ran the place thought about them.

Wade kept his tail fully submerged in the bathtub; the tub was a hideous shade of lime green, as if the entire room was taken from a nineteen-sixties catalogue, and the mirrors had steamed up long ago, as Wade experimented with the concept of ‘hot water’. Peter gave a sigh and collapsed upon the floor, no longer caring that his trousers were soaked through to his skin, and rolled up his sleeves in anticipation of getting further wet sometime soon.

“You didn’t like it,” muttered Peter.

“What? Nah! It was fun.”

“Beds aren’t _supposed_ to be fun.” Peter clenched his fists as Wade splashed him. “You’re supposed to sleep on them, Wade. You aren’t supposed to make forts from the blankets, or rip of the sheets to make ‘human clothes’, or pour a jug full of water over the mattress to try and make it ‘like home’. Now we’re talking about it, the television –”

“My tail feels itchy. I think it got too dry. Oh, can we try the bubble bath? We don’t get bubble bath in the sea! There’s bubbles, look, you can see them on the bottle! Is it safe to breathe under the water with that stuff, though? Should I try? I want to try!”

“Wade, I’m going to order us breakfast to be brought up, so –”

Wade splashed him again.

There was a huge wave of water, which was surprising with just a shredded pair of fins and two cupped hands, but Peter found himself covered from head to toe in water. He ran a hand through his hair, not enjoying the way it stuck to his skull and neck, and drew in a deep hiss of breath, too exhausted to deal with his partner’s behaviour. Wade gave a loud laugh and turned the tap back on, refilling the tub with an absolutely beautiful smile. Peter snapped:

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done.”

He stood up to leave, as he tried to ring out the bottom of his shirt, but Wade – with brown puppy-dog eyes and a trembling lip – looked over the bathtub with an expression that made Peter want to say ‘aw’ as loud as he could manage. It was impossible to stay mad at him, at least when he wasn’t aware of what ‘water damage’ meant, and Peter could only shake his head with a laugh and sit next to him on the rim.

Peter reached out to him to bring him up next to him; Wade was finally silenced, as he pulled himself up to sit on the edge beside Peter, and they both breathed heavily just an inch or so from the other, each one awaiting a kiss that seemed to never come. The bathroom of an old B&B was hardly the most romantic place in the world to consummate their relationship, but it felt that – so long as it was with Wade – anywhere would be romantic. Peter closed his eyes and felt Wade’s hand slide up his leg, until a noise stopped them.

The hotel phone rang in the bedroom.

They pulled apart before anything could begin, as Peter gave a long sigh and pressed a chaste kiss to Wade’s forehead, and headed into the bedroom. He had told the owners that they didn’t want to be disturbed, so a phone call felt strange, but he thought nothing about it as he took the corded relic of the past in hand. The metal was cold against his skin, while the voice on the other end sounded like something from a sci-fi movie, and he wondered whether this added to the ‘quaint’ appeal of the place. Peter answered quickly and patiently.

“Hello?”

‘Ah, yes, is this Peter Parker?’ The voice gave a cough. ‘Room eleven?’

“Er, yeah, but I said I didn’t want to be disturbed. My boyfriend’s pretty tired.”

‘I know, dear. I know. It’s just that your father entered and said it was an emergency.’ Peter felt his blood run cold. ‘I wouldn’t usually send anyone up like that, but he seemed very concerned about you and I was a little worried for you both. Are you okay?’

There came a knock at the door.

‘Hello? Dear, is everything -?’

Peter slammed the phone down onto the receiver. He ran straight to the bathroom; the owner must have given Tony a key, as well as forgotten to ask for proof about his ‘parentage’, and the door was beginning to open with voices that sounded suspiciously like Clint and Rhodey. He began to hyperventilate. The look of confusion on Wade’s face only brought tears of guilt to Peter’s eyes, as he hooked his arms around his partner and tried to pull him away.

“We – we – we need to get out of here.”

‘ _Peter, it’s me. Tony. You here?_ ’

There was no window in the bathroom. They would need to get through to the French balcony and jump, but then get to the waters of the beach before Tony could follow, and – honestly – it felt almost impossible. Peter felt dizzy with nerves, as he carried Wade over to the bathroom door, and tried to comfort Wade with softly whispered words and gentle gestures, but he felt as if he were reassuring himself more than anyone else.

He threw open the door, as he tried to make a run for the balcony. He barely made it several steps before Clint ran at him and tackled them both to the floor, and – as he cried out and rolled on his back to fight the intruder – he saw Rhodey and Tony quickly head over to Wade and lift him over onto the wheelchair. The merman gave a high-pierced scream that caused everyone to freeze, which gave enough distraction for Peter to punch Clint in the jaw and run over to Wade, desperate to free him from the others. Clint caught him by his legs.

Peter crashed back to the floor and hissed in pain.

Clint told him to ‘take it easy’, as he tried to pin Peter down. The other two men took the opportunity to wheel Wade away; Peter could bear it no longer, he gave a piercing scream and brought his knee up to Clint’s crotch. He struggled to his feet to get to Wade. The adrenaline rush made him feel dizzy. He felt a pain in his chest from his racing heart, as well as a sense of breathlessness, and he realised that his plan had backfired stupendously. Tony told him to send Wade back to the village, but Peter’s selfishness had damned him . . .

“Don’t – don’t you dare take him, Tony!”

Wade was already out of sight. Tony had sworn to take Wade, should he be able to find him, and he had said from the start that only the village would be safe, but Peter had ditched his phone and acted under the cover of night. There should have been no way for Tony to have found them, unless he traced Peter’s credit card or -. Peter felt his stomach churn. It was painful and made him retch, as he realised his stupidity all too late.

“Here’s hoping this works,” said Clint from behind.

There was a shuffling noise that caught Peter’s attention; he felt his mind scream at him that there was danger, as his head ached and his senses heightened, but it was all too late and he felt the needle at his neck before he had time to react. Peter felt the room begin to spin, as his body felt calm and his mind ran blank, and the last thing he heard was:

“Sorry, Peter, but no one wants you hurt.”

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

# Chapter Thirteen

“Peter? You need to wake up.”

The voice was soft and patient. It reminded him almost of his aunt, something from some other time and some other place, and it sent a stab of homesickness coursing through him, as he longed for the comfort of a familiar face. He felt soft cushions beneath him; there was a whirring sound from an air conditioner, which was uncommon in British homes, and also a heavy smell of chlorine and various disinfectants. Peter opened his eyes.

He was back in Stark Tower, but what looked to be the floor beneath Bruce’s laboratory. It was still somewhat recognizable, with the large balcony doors looking directly over the cliff edge and down into the sea, and he could even spot the staircase in the far corner that led to Bruce’s workspace upstairs, but the whole room was also completely different. There was a H-shaped aquarium set in the room, which was at least twelve feet wide and eight feet high, and – for the first time in a long time – Peter truly noticed the sheer size of the building.

 _You could charge admission for this_ , he thought.

There was sand all over the aquarium floor, along with various types of coral and seaweed, and Peter felt somewhat sick to see Wade’s collection of homemade jewellery and seashells collected almost exactly as they were left on the beach. The waters moved along the left side, moving almost in an exact rhythm of the sea outside, while waters were still on the opposite side, and there was a tunnel that ran overhead to connect to the two, albeit with only about two foot of water to swim across, due to the need for humans to walk underneath.

“Stark says it’s only half-finished,” said a voice.

Ava sat not far from him on another sofa. The section of the room nearest to the balcony, left of the H-shaped aquarium, was filled with furniture and snacks and even a foldout bed, while the right side – closest to the doors – was set up with state-of-the-art scientific equipment and machinery. It looked like Bruce was busying himself with some paperwork, having not yet noticed that Peter was awake, and so Ava took charge and sat beside him. The expression she wore was one filled with despair, although she smiled nonetheless.

“Half-finished?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, he’s left a lot of space for Wade to get air,” said Ava. “The ‘problem’ is that there isn’t really anywhere to lounge outside the water, like on a beach or shore, so he said he’s planning on adding an area where he can come out of the water and move about.”

“W-Wade’s here? Is he safe? Is he okay? Does he need -?”

“Physically? He’s great. Emotionally, though . . .”

Ava took Peter’s hand in hers. It was a small comfort; her hand was soft and smooth, nothing as callused or scarred as Wade’s, and yet he could sense the strength that came from her were-tiger heritage and knew she could defend him if it was necessary. Ava gently placed the back of her hand against his forehead, before turning him by his chin to see his neck, and then gave him a nod to say that he looked okay. The muscle in his neck was somewhat sore, while someone had changed him into a new outfit, but – otherwise – everything seemed fine.

“I think he’s having an anxiety attack,” said Ava.

“Where is he? I need to see him.”

“He’s over there in the corner.” Ava pointed. “You see the rockery? There’s a spot just behind, out of sight; he hasn’t moved since they put him in there. Tony has cameras on him, but he’s just rocking and crying. I’m thinking of getting into swimwear and checking on him. If he starts hurting himself, they may have to sedate him and – _hey, Peter, stop_!”

Peter pulled away from her. There was a white armchair not too far, one that would be a struggle for most people to lift, but – with his strength and the sheer rush of adrenaline – he lifted it high and held it above his head. It took only a few seconds to reach the corner of the aquarium, where he could see the shreds of Wade’s fins poking out from behind the rocks, and the injustice of what he saw made him feel sick to his stomach.

He threw the chair with full force; the noise of the impact caused Wade to poke his head around to look, while there was a scream from Ava and a cry of ‘no’ from Bruce, and – rather than break – the chair was sent hurtling back at Peter. It caught him across the forehead. Peter cursed that his reflexes weren’t quick enough to prevent the leg catching against him, although they were able to save him from a worse blow, and the chair crashed against the floor with a breaking of wood and tearing of leather, landing not far from Ava.

There was blood. It ran just enough to trickle into his eye and caused it to sting, until he was squinting to clear his vision, and he could see Wade crawling across the sand to get to the glass, looking worried and afraid of Peter’s injury. Peter dropped down in front of the glass and reached out to press his palm upon it, but – as Wade pressed back on the exact same spot – it was enough to make him cry and his throat seize up with emotion.

“Let him out, now!”

Bruce slowly walked across the room; there was a piece of cloth in his hand, along with some disinfectant and medical equipment in his pocket, and he signalled for Ava to stay put, as if afraid that she might spook Peter like he was some wild animal. The moment Bruce came close to Peter, Wade visibly jumped and scurried away back behind the rocks, and it was heartbreaking to see his fear. Peter let out a sound of frustration, as he moved to grab the armchair again, but Bruce’s hands encircled his wrists and held him still.

“Whoa, there, Peter!”

“Let go of me, Bruce. I’m not letting you -”

“Peter, you’ll hurt yourself.” Bruce knelt in front of him. “I’m here to answer any questions you have; Tony’s built you a suite just opposite, so you can always be close to Wade, and Ava is here for moral support, but . . . just let me clean that wound up, please?”

The smile on Bruce’s face was nervous and broken. He sat cross-legged opposite Peter, as he tried to sit in a way that would be comfortable to his older frame, and it only added to the sense that he was getting older in years. Bruce poured some disinfectant onto the cloth in his hand, placing the bottles beside them, as the smile on his lips emphasised the crow’s feet growing at the corners of his eyes. He reached out and pressed the cloth to Peter’s cut.

“Try – try not to squirm, okay?”

Peter flinched and tried to fight back a glare. It looked like Bruce was struggling to hold back his frustration, likely overworked and morally against what Tony had done, but he was also a scientist with that same scientific curiosity, which would press him on through almost any circumstance to knowledge. He mopped away the blood from Peter’s face and examined the wound carefully, although his expression said he longed to get back to his research and data. Peter refused to feel sorry for him, not when Wade was still locked away.

“We need to let Wade go,” said Peter.

“We can’t do that right now,” replied Bruce. “I’m sorry, Peter. It’s just – er – samples from Wade could really help with our research. Do you know what the rate of organ donation was in this country? There was double the amount of organs needed for the donors available, which led to a large amount of people dying just waiting for treatment. Cable’s research virtually changed that overnight, Peter. We’re – we’re still only halfway there, though.”

“You don’t need Wade for that,” snapped Ava from her seat. “Peter offered to take the techno-organic material, didn’t he? You could have a willing subject! If you’re really going to let Wade go in a few months, you could just let Peter go without any guilt, so what’s the big deal? This is why no sane mutant would ever talk to a human! This is wrong, Bruce.”

“I – well – do you – do you guys know your history?” Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You should look up Typhoid Mary. No one was called a monster when her human rights were violated, yet she spent the end of her days without any freedom . . . sometimes -?”

“Bullshit. That’s totally different and you know it.”

Bruce pulled out some surgical tape. He carefully applied it to Peter’s wound, muttering that he should be able to avoid stitches, but – through it all – he refused to look either Peter or Ava in the eye. He continued to sit awkwardly opposite Peter, although he looked longingly over to the sofas centre of the room, and it was possible he knew that Peter would be unwilling to leave Wade at this stage, as such Bruce sacrificed his comfort for their sake.

The room was the perfect temperature, while the electric thermometer on the tank revealed that the temperature for Wade was the equivalent in necessary comfort, but Peter could see Wade hiding behind the rocks and peering over the top with a pale face. He looked frightened; he was trembling, while there were long scratch marks on his arms and head, and Peter prayed he would calm down soon, else he would need to be sedated to prevent him from harming himself. Peter pressed his hand back against the glass.

“Why are you both doing this?”

“I don’t think Tony had any intention of taking Wade,” admitted Bruce. “Not at first, anyway. We were happy enough just listening to your conversations; we were able to make notes, compile a case study, and even able to reverse-engineer a couple of Cable’s samples, once we suspected he used mutant DNA in his research. It was enough; in time, once Tony helped changed the laws regarding mutants, we could maybe ask for a volunteer . . .

“We had _time_. It might take years for us to change the laws, but the research would still be here and eventually we could use samples volunteered to cure cancer, cure hereditary diseases, and to cure even the most basic of illnesses. The – ah – problem came recently, when it became more . . . personal. Do you remember Jane Foster?”

Bruce looked down, as he piled his belongings into his pockets. There were bags underneath his eyes and bruises around his fingers, so that it looked like he had been struggling with a project late into the night, perhaps to the point of refusing sleep, and there was only so far anger management classes would take him. Peter felt a stab of fear that Bruce might snap, although the last ‘episode’ had been years ago, and yet he could see the sharpness in Bruce’s gaze and the exhaustion that seemed to seep through every pore.

“A friend of that Thor guy, right?”

“More or less,” said Bruce. “I’m surprised you remember Thor, but I suppose he does leave a . . . well . . . lasting impression. Anyway, Jane works for a government agency, _our_ government, but she’s been in this country long enough to make a fair few friends, some you may have heard about: Erik Selvig, Pepper Potts, and myself. There isn’t anything about physics that she doesn’t know about, and her research is out of this world.”

“What’s Jane got to do with anything?” Ava came to sit next to them. “I met her once; a bit flaky and ditzy, but passionate and dedicated to her work. I didn’t understand a word she said, but I loved every minute of it. It was like listening to poetry.”

“Jane has that effect on people.” Bruce gave a nervous smile. “Anyway, she – er – was diagnosed with cancer . . . it’s pretty bad. Thor is devastated, while Pepper hasn’t stopped crying, and Tony is just . . . Tony. He can’t process stuff like this; he just wants to fix things for everyone, make it better, and sitting still waiting for death is killing him.”

Peter let his hand fall from the glass. It was a worthy cause, one that Peter would have gladly volunteered himself toward, but there was nothing in the world that could justify taking Wade, who was already so unusually quiet. Peter looked up, where he saw there was no ‘ceiling’ to the aquarium and the water reached the rim, and he knew – if Wade wanted – he would be able to climb to the top and speak with the English he had learned. Peter dreaded to think how he felt, but Bruce interrupted his thoughts and asked:

“Would Cable be willing to trade places?”

It was hard not to laugh. Peter ran a hand over his face and looked back to Wade, who was now blatantly watching them with clear interest, and leaning on the rocks with a sorrowful expression. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, so Peter signed – using those signs taught to him by Wade – a simple message: ‘I swear to get you out’. The smile the broke on Wade’s face was equal parts trusting and sceptical. It was heartbreaking to see.

“He wouldn’t,” said Peter. “Trust me.”

“You can be sure?” Bruce asked. “It would only be –”

“He has a messiah complex.” Peter clenched his hands. “If Cable were willing to trade places, he would have already offered. The fact is that he thinks he can do more as a scientist beneath the waves, than he can up here stopping Wade from this hell. Look, Bruce, I’m planning on joining Wade the second I’m able, anyway, so . . . why not let me trade with him?”

Bruce looked absolutely green with such a suggestion, as he pulled back and looked between the two younger people, and – if he expected to see any similar reaction from Ava – he was quite disappointed. Ava appeared to side with Peter; her eyes were looked hard on Bruce, while her body language looked somewhat defensive with arms folded, and it felt good to have someone on his side, even if it felt like the world was against him.

“We can’t do that, Peter,” said Bruce.

“Why not?” Ava asked.

“Well, for one thing, the techno-organic material has to be carefully adapted to the individual’s DNA, so that it won’t be rejected, which is why current operations cost so much and our charity is funded by the rich,” explained Bruce. “The DNA used by ourselves – and by Cable – was entirely human, but with Peter . . . we can’t prove anything, but . . . there may be mutant ancestry in his blood. He has quick reflexes, heightened senses, and strength beyond what his frame implies . . . we don’t know how the material affects those of mixed blood.

“Even if we were willing to take that risk, Tony has already asked Wade,” continued Bruce in a solemn voice. “He asked him before taking him inside, wanted to give him an out, but he just let out an inhuman wail and tried to attack Tony and Rhodey . . . when he eventually calmed down, we put him inside the aquarium. He said that he would claw my eyes out, if we tried to put you in a tank like this. I – er – kind of got the impression he wasn’t kidding.”

There was a familiar trill from inside the aquarium. Wade crawled quickly over the rocks, much in a way that reminded Peter all too much of a specific horror movie, and nearly flinched when Wade slammed his hands hard upon the glass. The merman looked furious, although the fear was evident behind his façade, and he pointed two fingers to his eyes and then to Bruce, before he made a swiping motion. He heard what they said, but apparently felt the urge to reiterate his threat to the older man. Peter swallowed hard and asked:

“Will you leave the cove alone now?”

Bruce looked away from Wade, while Ava put a hand over her eyes to avoid looking at the exposed genitalia, and – frankly – that had to be one of the major concerns that Peter had about using the material to become a merman. He really didn’t need to know that Cable was a ‘grower’, just like he really didn’t want to know what everyone was working with before even exchanging a word, but it was a fact of their life. Bruce coughed and finally answered.

“We’ll leave you be, if you need to talk to Cable,” said Bruce.

“What about after that?”

“Peter, we’ll keep a close eye on it, because no one wants you to risk the techno-organic material,” admitted Bruce. “It’d risk your life, if the calculations are even slightly off, but it would also be a permanent change . . . you would lose everything. I won’t stop you from going down there, just once, so Cable doesn’t panic, but after that . . .”

“What if he has the material ready? What if I take it when I’m there?”

“That’s your choice and I wouldn’t stop you, but don’t think it would force Tony’s hand into trading you with Wade. Even if we put you in _with_ Wade, I can foresee Wade getting pretty pissed at us and scared on your behalf. It would be better if you just waited in the cove.”

There was another trill from Wade, as he pressed himself against the glass. He was trying to threaten Bruce again, to make sure that Peter wasn’t placed into the aquarium, and it was clear how the scientists’ hands were forced. The only real option was to let Wade go, but that would mean losing the chance to cure cancer and curing Jane. It was a catch twenty-two. Peter knew his best hope was to get Wade to freedom, become a merman himself, then return alone to let Tony collect samples from the cove, allowing him to go back each night to Wade.

“Ava, could you stay here with Wade?”

“Huh? Sure, I guess. Why?”

“I need to see Cable,” said Peter. “Just don’t leave Wade’s sights, not even for a second, and – if he asks – you remember how to sign some of his words, right? I know – I know the verbal part of his language is a pain, but just a bit of the signed part will help him.”

“I’m no substitute for you, Peter. How long are you even going to be?”

Peter looked over to the clock in the laboratory. It was dawn, far earlier in the day than the pre-arranged time to meet Cable, and there was no knowing whether Cable would even waste time in the cove, when Peter left a message to meet at a set time elsewhere. If he stayed in the cove long enough, it could well be that he would only need to return back at the set time later that night, but – like Tony – Peter couldn’t just sit on his hands. He needed to do _something_.

“Long enough,” he said. “Call Sam and tell him to meet me down there.”

“Do you have to do this now? Wade’s –”

“My only priority. I promise.”

Peter signed badly to Wade: ‘free you soon’. He felt tears rise to his eyes, as Wade crawled over to Peter, before he signed: ‘not your fault’. It took all of his strength to stand, especially when Wade looked to him so desperately for support, but to stay would only extend his partner’s suffering needlessly through his confinement. Peter forced himself away and practically ran to the door, as he tried to keep as calm as possible.

He needed to find Cable.


	14. Chapter 14

# Chapter Fourteen

“Do you think he’s here?”

Sam wrapped his jacket around him. It was a cold day, enough that Peter couldn’t fault him for jumping from foot to foot, but there was something oddly irritating at seeing him constantly moving in an otherwise still and silent cove. He looked as tired Peter felt; the usually dark skin was pale and sallow, while he yawned widely every few minutes with an obnoxious volume, and he rubbed at his eyes with the same tiredness as a child.

The waves that crashed against the ocean were louder today, which indicated a possible storm was on its way, and Peter could feel the winds so strong that his clothes and hair were pulling at him almost painfully, tossed to the side with a massive force. There were ripples even along the cove waters; these were the times when Wade would crawl onto the sands, where they would huddle under a blanket and cling together for warmth, and it all seemed for Peter’s sake, as Wade never seemed too perturbed by the cold. Peter missed him.

“It’s been an hour, Pete,” said Sam.

“I know, but he wasn’t by the bed-and-breakfast.” Peter ran a hand over his face. “We left a note, didn’t we? He should know to come here. Plus, well, m-maybe he hasn’t come to the cove yet, which means he might still come to see Wade, because h-he wouldn’t have seen the note _here_ , and – and – and – oh God, where is he?”

Peter leaned dangerously close over the incline, where he looked down into the waters below, but – as he looked – he saw nothing through the distortion of the surface. The wind was simply too strong. It was possible that Cable was around somewhere, but Peter was beginning to grow desperate. He felt his heart race and his mouth run dry, while his hands and armpits became clammy with a nervous sweat, and soon he made up his mind to try and get into the water itself, maybe attempt to swim out or dive down, in case Cable was about to see him.

“I’m – I’m going to dive down,” muttered Peter.

There was a loud laugh from Sam. The other man took a rock in his hand and threw it as far as he could past the rocks and into the sea, where it fell without so much as a ripple into the waters, lost in the huge waves and strong tide. Sam soon turned around, as he fished around his pockets for a pair of woollen gloves, and – as he struggled to get them on with numb fingers – he smiled over at Peter with a roll of his eyes. Peter glared at him.

“You’re going to dive? Funny!”

“Why is that so funny?” Peter asked. “I can do it.”

“Dude, you can’t even swim.” Sam shrugged and looked out to sea. “Remember when MJ had that party and her neighbour got out that kiddie pool? You so slipped in it, fell down face first, and then started flailing about in a panic! ‘I’m drowning, save me, someone’! Like, it was four inches of water, Petey! That’s got to be at least thirty feet.”

Peter looked down with a sense of absolute dread. He couldn’t tell whether Sam was exaggerating or being accurate, but just a _look_ down made it seem like a hundred feet, and suddenly his stomach felt heavy and rolled about inside him, as he looked down with a sense of dizziness that made him feel physically sick. A part of him prayed that swimming as a mermaid was instinctual, as he could foresee himself as useless as Wade when it came to movement beneath the waves, and he wanted to help his partner and not hinder him.

“I don’t care, I’m going in,” said Peter.

He began to undo the buttons on his coat; fingers struggled over each and every one, shaking as he tried to hurry the simple act up, and Sam ran over to him to talk him out of it, promising to dive in Peter’s place and even teach him to swim later on. The offer soon turned into an argument, as both of them fought for the right to dive in the other’s place, until a loud cough came from the rock centre of the cove entrance, and a voice said:

‘ _I would advise against that._ ’

“Cable? Oh, thank God!”

Peter pushed Sam back and ran to the opposite side of the cove, where Cable bobbed over in the water with a sense of ease that came naturally to him, and – as Peter dropped onto the sand opposite him – he began to weep for the first time since Gwen’s death. The guilt and shame rushed back to him, made worse by how he had again let someone else suffer, and history began to repeat itself before him. He barely noticed as Sam sat next to him, doing his coat back up for him in a way that felt almost paternal, and Cable looked at him with pity.

The older man appeared to carry a bag with him. The material was unlike anything Peter could recognise, perhaps made out of something unique beneath the waves, and it was slung over Cable’s shoulder like a schoolchild with a satchel. Peter rubbed at his eyes, as he tried to wipe away the tears to see clearly, but they stung with the sweat that seeped into them and the rough power of the wind. He tried to smile, but it felt broken and weak.

“Do you have the techno-organic material?”

“You’re not taking that, are you?” Sam asked. “It’d totally –”

“Shut up, Sam!” Peter looked to Cable. “Do you?”

Cable swam closer, until his hands were pressed against sand. The wind blasted him with a heavy spray of water, while his hair was tousled back and forth, and yet he maintained a strong sense of dignity that Peter could not imitate in the least. He nodded to Sam to show a level of respect, but his eyes soon turned back to Peter with full attention. Peter drew in a staggered breath. He watched as Cable breathed deep, so his chest extended and he appeared taller and larger than his usual self, and soon Cable said in a deep voice:

“Tony Stark has Wade, doesn’t he?”

“I couldn’t stop him,” admitted Peter. “He gave me a day to get Wade away from here, but that would mean never being with Wade again, so – so I thought . . . I thought by hiding Wade away for just one night, it’d be time for you to get the techno-organic material ready, so we could escape together. T-Tony found him and – and –”

“He’s fine, though,” Sam interrupted. “Well, he’s not ‘fine’ fine, but he’s safe. He’s in a pretty massive tank, replicates the seafloor perfectly, and he’s got more seafood than I’ve ever seen in my life. No idea how he’s going to crack open a lobster with his hands, but –”

“I – I have a plan, Cable!” Peter put his hands together. “Sam is going to rig together a distraction with Ava, so I’ll have time to get into the laboratory, and – well – I’ve been working on some tech of my own, s-so it should work as a great defence without hurting anyone in the process. I just have to drag Wade over to the windows and jump. They overlook the sea, so all we need is for you to wait for us underneath.”

“He can’t swim, so you’ll have to save him from drowning.”

“Could _you_ swim from that height?”

“I could swim better than you.”

Cable pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a frustrated expression, much like the one a person might wear when dealing with Wade, and he looked between them both with a hard look and narrowed eyes. He pushed himself back with the fins of his tail; it left Peter with a terrifying moment of wondering whether Cable would leave, but instead he dove under the water and re-emerged fresh from the water near to them. The wind didn’t seem to bother Cable in the least, but he did look sympathetic to the discomfort of Sam and Peter.

“There are many flaws with that plan,” said Cable.

There was a long moment of silence, as Peter tried to absorb what was said. The fact was that Cable was correct; there was too much that could go wrong, such as getting caught in the act or only being able to get Wade to the water and not himself, but Peter simply knew that he had to try everything he could. He looked up over the cliffs to Stark Tower in the distance, where he saw those large windows and familiar lights. Peter gave a sad smile.

“It’s the best we have,” he said. “At the very least, Wade will be in the water and free. You can lead him to somewhere safe, back to the village, or he can just sink and crawl to wherever he wants to go, but I want to jump with him, Cable. I want the techno-organic material.”

“Do you realise the risks and how long it will take to work?”

“I don’t care! Just let me take it and I’ll deal with the consequences.”

Sam gave a sigh, as he raised his hands to his mouth. He blew on them with as much warm air as he could muster, while he rocked back and forth on his heels, and – as he looked to Peter – there was an obvious roll to his eyes. Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Sam just raised a hand to silence him, as he gave a cheeky smirk and poked Peter hard on the forehead, in a way that was more childish than anything else, before he said:

“Peter, you should hear him out.”

“Indeed,” said Cable. “It usually takes an hour to work fully; it can be as little as twenty minutes, to as much as six hours, depending on how one reacts to the change and how much area there is to change or grow. If you take it now, you could potentially partially or fully transform before Wade can be freed. It would be better just to jump. I can carry you to a cave not far from here, where I can administer the material to you safely under supervision.”

“What happens if I’m trapped or caught?” Peter asked. “If Tony stops me from jumping, I might not be able to get to you in order to take the material. Oh God, what if he stops us _both_ from leaving? I can’t leave Wade alone in a tank, Cable. I can’t!”

“Peter, you will be no good to Wade should you transform here. You will also be no good to Wade should you panic, as it will only impair your judgement and reflexes. I suggest to you a compromise: I have several vials with me, enough to give one to you to take, and – should you be fully prevented from leaving with Wade – you could take it in Stark Tower.”

Peter watched as Cable reached into the bag by his side. The device he handed over did indeed include a vial, but it was locked in place almost like a battery. It looked pressurised, like an allergy pen, and the button on top was flat against the material, so that it couldn’t be pushed accidentally. Peter flinched as Cable placed it into his hand, as it was so deathly cold and oddly heavy against his palm. It was unlike any technology he had seen before.

He slipped it into his pocket, as Cable explained to use it much like an EpiPen. The weight of it reminded him of its presence, much like a constant reassurance, and he knew – if worst came to worst – he could at least live alongside Wade and let Tony take samples from himself instead. He only feared how Wade would react, possibly attacking anyone that dared to go near Peter, likely in fear of him being abused as Wade once was abused, but that was a problem for far later on. Sam gave a sigh and stood to his feet.

“What good would it do to take it in Stark Tower?” Sam asked.

“If I can’t get Wade to safety,” said Peter, “I could at least change myself and live with him. I could also offer myself in place of Wade, even if he would freak out at the suggestion, and – well – I could always live in there with him at a push, but –”

“You think you’ll both be able to get to the window in time?”

“You can distract Tony and Bruce, right?”

Cable cleared his throat. Peter and Sam looked to each other in embarrassment, as Peter realised that they had been talking between themselves an awful lot, as if no one else were present, and he dreaded to think how spontaneous his plan seemed because of that. The cold wind picked up speed, so that there was a heavy mist surrounding them, and Peter – as he looked out over to the sea – realised he wouldn’t even be able to say goodbye to May.

“I will wait beneath the cliffs at the Tower,” said Cable.

Peter shook himself from his thoughts and stood beside Sam. The techno-organic material in his pocket would guarantee him an existence like Cable and Wade, but the only question was whether he could share that existence freely with Wade in the waters beyond. Peter let his hand rest over his pocket, as he desperately tried to still his breathing and plan through his actions in Stark Tower, but there was so little time to plan that he doubted his abilities. He blinked through the tears and said to Cable:

“Thank you, I promise I’ll save Wade.”

“I believe you. Good luck, Peter.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

# Chapter Fifteen

Peter adjusted the web-shooter.

It felt strange against his wrist; the metal was cold, while the device was somewhat obtrusive at the top end, and yet he knew it was a necessary evil, because he needed to be able to bend his wrist to touch the point in order to eject the webs. He adjusted his sleeve to cover the device, but a part of him needed to be certain they would work. Peter looked across the laboratory to see Bruce’s desk just opposite his, with an all too familiar photograph . . .

The frame was silver, a gift from Tony one Christmas, and inside was a photograph of the whole scientific research department. Tony stood with an arm against Bruce’s shoulder, leaning on him with a childlike playfulness, while Bruce shot him the ‘look’ that told him to be serious for just one moment, and Peter was bent over laughing just to their side, from some joke or other that Tony told. There were a few unfamiliar faces, as well as a few friends, and Peter felt a stab of guilt at leaving them all behind.

“This is for Wade,” Peter reminded himself.

He aimed his wrist at the photograph, as he prayed that the experimental technology wouldn’t backfire in any way, because – as he remembered morbidly – there had been a lot of mistakes in the past when he had chances to try and perfect the device. It was the only weapon he had access, the only device he had worked on personally, and the only item that could have immense defensive abilities if used correctly, and – with Wade in the aquarium one floor below – Peter was willing to try just about anything to save him.

Peter drew in a deep breath. The vial of techno-organic material in his pocket weighed heavy, but he kept his aim true and pulled his two middle fingers down to his wrist, where he pressed the extended piece of metal that protruded from the device. A long stream of webbing expelled itself almost at once, where it smacked against the glass of the frame and sent it hurtling back against the wall, and Peter – in excitement – gave a loud cheer.

‘ _Peter, is everything okay_?’ Bruce called up.

Peter gave a start, as he adjusted his sleeve once more and ran to the door. He wrenched his laboratory coat from the door, which he pulled on for the first time in a long time, and realised that he spent longer lately with Wade than he had in the laboratory itself. There was a moment of panic, as he thought of Wade seeing him dressed almost like a doctor, especially when he needed to get them both out of the window and to safety, but if he could pretend – just long enough – to want to collect the samples himself, so Wade could be comfortable –

‘ _I heard a bang. Do I need to send an intern up_?’

“I just knocked over the keyboard. I’m coming down now!”

Peter ran down the stairs, jumping the last six to land with a bang at the bottom, and Bruce – with a visible wince – sent him a dark look of frustration. They usually worked well together, with Peter collecting samples from wherever sent and Bruce analysing them, before they would work on the technology together or with Tony, but Peter would readily admit to a few bad work habits and jumping down and over objects would be one of them.

The aquarium was the first thing Peter saw when he landed. He couldn’t see Wade at all in this section of the room, which was a worry at first, but his priority needed to be setting up their escape to make it as easy as possible. There was a roar against the balcony doors; the ocean outside raged on, while the wind and rain lashed against the windows, and Peter knew that he couldn’t find an easy excuse to open them. He instead unlocked them and opened one just a crack, calling out that that he needed the draught to calm his nerves.

Bruce appeared under the tunnel of the aquarium, where he signalled Peter over to the other side of the room with a welcoming gesture. It took a minute for Peter to run over; he looked around for Wade, as he moved into the laboratory section of the H-shaped aquarium, and spotted his partner partially hidden by a large rockery. It looked like Wade was enjoying some seaweed, a sight that made Peter smile warmly. Bruce gave a loud cough.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Peter?”

Peter jumped out of his thoughts and looked briefly to Bruce. The older man was clearly nervous, unsure whether Peter would be able to stand taking samples from his lover, but Peter smiled as confidently as he could manage back at him. It was almost impossible to take his eyes away from Wade, who was watching him with an extremely sceptical expression, and it broke Peter’s heart to see him looking so scared. Every instinct told him to go to the glass and talk to his partner, to maybe get into the waters with him, but he fought the urge.

“It’s better this way,” said Peter.

“Well, it would be difficult to humanely sedate him,” admitted Bruce. “I – ah – just thought maybe you wouldn’t want to . . . you know . . . get involved. We just need one blood sample today, that’s it, after that he is free to do exactly as he wants. I promise.”

“He – he hates needles and doctors, Bruce, but I can try to calm him down.”

“Are you _sure_ you can do this? There’s no shame, if you can’t.”

Wade pulled himself closer to the glass, where he looked between the two men. There was a needle in Bruce’s hand, which was clearly on display and intimidated even Peter, and it was difficult to miss the fear that Wade expressed on sight of the medical equipment. Those brown eyes were wide and dilated, while his hands shook and so too did his head, and he paled so considerably that Peter felt a stab of absolute panic, as he feared Wade would work himself up into an anxiety attack. He struggled to remember Wade’s language.

Peter signed simply: ‘trust me, we escape, promise’.

“I can get you the sample,” said Peter after.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, as he looked at Peter’s hands. It was well-known by this point that Wade’s language was equal parts verbal and signed, with the verbal part consisting of what some called ‘clicks’ and others a ‘trill’, but none of them had yet been able to work out the meanings of either component of the language. Bruce had every right to be curious, especially when Peter’s loyalties were to Wade first and foremost, but there wasn’t time for Bruce to question him. The older man barely opened his mouth before it happened.

There was an explosion below.

It was so loud and severe that it shook their floor entirely; water splashed over the edges of the aquarium, while Wade slipped and banged his head on the glass with a curse, and Bruce stumbled back a few steps to brace himself against a desk. Peter bit his lip to stop from swearing, as he glared darkly to the doors of the laboratory. This was likely the distraction that Sam promised, but it seemed so dangerous and so much like what Cable had done years previous, and Wade seemed to pick up on it too, as he grinned like a madman.

There was the sound of an alarm. The A.I. system kicked in to warn them that access to lower floors was restricted, but that the ‘fire defences’ had kicked in and no causalities were noted, and yet there was smoke seeping in from underneath their door. The lights then went out. It left Peter in an absolute panic, until emergency lights kicked in and lit up the skirting boards, laboratory equipment, and the corners of the aquarium, giving the place an eerie glow.

Bruce dropped the needle and ran to the door, pressing the back of his hand against the wood, before he carefully opened it and saw the few interns and staff running to the stairwell, where Sam called out that one of Tony’s experiments had gone wrong. The hallway was just as dark. It lent the impression that the people running to and fro were nothing more than shadows on a screen, and – with a loud bang that sent Peter dropping to his knees and covering his ears – there came another explosion from somewhere. Bruce shouted to him:

“I better go check this out, stay right here.”

Bruce was out of the door before Peter could say a word. The door slammed shut, while an alarm whirred in and out of action, so loud that it was almost deafening, and it took all of Peter’s strength to climb to his feet and shrug off his lab coat. He held it in his hand for a long moment, simply staring at it as he tried to count to thirty like Sam said, but he felt somewhat sick to even hold something that Wade associated so much with evil.

He drew in a deep breath, as he tried to still his racing heart, and tossed the coat as far as he could to the desk opposite, where it fell short and dropped onto the floor in an eerie shape, much like a ghost of its former owner. Peter shook his head and ran to the aquarium, where he banged over and over onto the glass and desperately signalled for Wade to pull himself to the top. It took Wade a few minutes to climb, as he struggled to float and struggled to find purchase on the smooth glass, but soon he managed it and leaned over the edge.

“W-Wade? Are you okay?”

“Do I fucking look okay?” Wade scowled. “What _is_ that, anyway?”

“I’ll – I’ll tell you later.” Peter spread his arms out ready to catch Wade. “I need you to jump right now. I left the balcony doors open; we’re going to walk over there, jump down into the sea, and Cable will take us far away from here. We’ll be safe. Just jump, please.”

There was barely any wait. Wade was clearly desperate to get to freedom, so he pulled himself up and over with a great amount of speed, and dropped into Peter’s waiting arms. He was soaked all over, so slippery that Peter nearly dropped him and struggled to keep purchase on him, and it was only Wade’s fast thinking – as he threw his arms around his partner’s neck – that stopped him from slipping onto the floor from a considerable distance.

“Good catch, baby boy,” said Wade.

“Thank you for trusting me,” whispered Peter.

They shared a look for a moment, one that caused Peter to blush and look away with a smile, until he realised that Sam’s distraction wouldn’t last much longer, and – as he adjusted Wade so that he could wrap his arms around his waist – he began to walk them both to the balcony. There was a strong breeze, one that had blown the doors together and yet not quite shut, and Peter could hear the rattling as they banged against one another, something oddly disconcerting as they made their way slowly over in a desperate need to escape.

“Did Bruce tell you what I did?”

“About what?” Peter asked.

“About Tony _Stank_!” Wade beamed brightly. “I crawled down that tunnel thing, did the biggest piece of poop you can imagine, then dropped it onto Tony’s head when he was leaning against the tank. I know you ain’t into toilet humour, but I actually cried from laughing so hard! He just cut access to the tunnel and locked me in that side of the aquarium, away from the computers and stuff, but I’ll take that memory with me to the grave!”

Peter bit his tongue to stop from laughing aloud. He could feel his chest heave with the effort of repressing the laughs, as the very last thing he wanted was to encourage Wade that such disgusting and inhuman actions were acceptable, but there was just something about his partner getting revenge – in however a childish way – that made him realise Wade _would_ recover from this. Wade was still in there, still himself, and the moment they reached the sea would be the moment when he would come back to life again.

They just about reached the doors, which Peter pushed open with his shoulder. The rain lashed against them, it was strong enough to cause Peter some pain, while the water ran down his face and blurred his vision. He would usually curse forgoing his glasses, but he would have been blinder with them under such conditions, and so he drew a sigh of relief, as he pulled both of them to the balcony wall. The backs of his knees knocked upon the railing.

‘ _Peter, don’t move_!’

Peter looked up and saw Tony. The older man wore only a threadbare t-shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms, likely having just awoken from a long sleep, and the familiar glow of the reactor in his chest glowed about the pitch-black room. There was also one other source of light about him: the iron fist. It was part of an ongoing experiment of Tony’s, as he tried to create an ‘Iron Man’, but clearly he only had time to don the hand in his rush.

It was pointed right at Wade, albeit at his scales and nowhere near vital organs. The light it emitted was oddly threatening, like a warning they were in his sights and could go nowhere else, and Peter – as slowly as he could to avoid triggering his friend – lowered his hand to his side and kept it far away from its equal wrapped around Wade’s waist. He pretended to ball his hand into a fist, while his two middle fingers traced the trigger with an increasingly familiarity, and he prayed his unusually quick reflexes were quicker than Tony’s reflexes.

“What do you want, Tony?”

“I can’t let you go, Peter,” shouted Tony. “If you want to release Wade, that’s fine. I promise I won’t stop you. I can’t let you go, though, not when we don’t know how the material will even interact with your biology! You could _die_ , Peter, best-case scenario. Even if it works, I can’t be the one to tell May that her little boy is swimming around talking to _fish_!”

“Look, I know you have my best interests at hear, but I _need_ to do this!” Peter felt chilled to the bone, as he spat out rainwater. “Whatever happens, just tell May that I love her and I’m sorry I hurt her. Ask her – ask her to forgive me . . . I’m sorry, Tony.”

“You’d be leaving everyone, Peter. You’d be all alone.”

“That’s my choice to make, Tony. Mine.”

Tony looked heartbroken. It was sometimes easy to forget that Tony had lost loved ones, too, which included his parents and his mentor, a recent event that Peter cursed himself for having not been around to prevent, and he saw real grief in his friend’s eyes. Peter knew what it was like to watch someone fall right before your eyes, to leave you and never return, and he knew what it was like to spend years with restless sleep as you think of the ‘what if’ of every branching path. He felt tears rise to his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said Peter.

Peter raised his hand at the moment Tony moved to shoot. He managed to pull the trigger of the web-shooter just in time, blocking whatever weapon or disabling device Tony had rigged up to the hand, and sent the older man hurtling back. Tony’s hand was thrown against the aquarium tank, where it stuck with the force of the webbing, and an expression of panic emerged on his face, as he looked back at Peter with complete and helpless surprise.

There was a laugh from Wade, who raised his middle finger at Tony. Peter realised this would be the last time he saw Tony or anyone else . . . the last time he worked in the laboratory with his equals, the last time he shared a joke with MJ or Ava, and the last time he would ever speak to May . . . he began to feel dizzy and sick. Wade was against him begging for them to go, almost in tears himself as panic began to set in, and the sudden shock of the other’s pain reminded him of _why_ he was sacrificing so much.

“Please, forgive me,” whispered Peter.

With that, they jumped.

 


	16. Chapter 16

# Chapter Sixteen

Peter opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was rock; it was perhaps less than a few feet above him, but also smooth as stone and blocked the sun from view, and – as he continued to look – he noticed strange lights reflected upon it in beautiful patterns. There came with the sights the familiar sound of waves, as well as the scent of sea-air, and he drew in a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes to clear them of any sleep. He felt oddly warm, despite the bad British weather.

He felt stone upon his back and arms, which – as he raised one to look at – he realised were bare and somewhat damp, and soon memories began to flood his mind. He remembered falling from Stark Tower. It was pretty much all he remembered, as panic set in the moment they hit water and he knew he must have fainted on impact, and everything after that was simply a blur of sensations . . . coldness, damp, darkness . . . he couldn’t recall being moved at all, especially not into what began to feel like a cave.

“Hey, are you up, sweetums?”

Peter rolled his head to the side; there was a small body of water inside the cave, where Wade bobbed up and down with his hands pressed on the side, and behind him there was only sea to be seen and no other sights. There was no telling how far they were from Stark Tower, but the sun was shining brightly and Wade looked beyond happy. He was grinning from ear to ear, with eyes so bright that they were impossible to look away from, and there was a healthy flush to his cheeks and chest that made him truly come alive.

“I – I’m up,” said Peter. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know. Six hours?”

“Six – _six hours_?”

He tried to sit up and struggled. There was a strange numbness to his legs, which refused to move properly in the least, and every attempted movement garnered a strange response from his body, so that he began to flop around almost like a fish. He stopped when he landed on his stomach not too far from the edge of the cave, where he let his bare arm fall into the water with a splash and felt Wade drape a wet arm over his back with a barely contained laugh. It was enough to nearly make him cry, as panic began to set in and he feared he was paralysed.

“You’re trying to _walk_ with a tail,” teased Wade.

“No, I’m trying to _sit up_ with –”

Peter rolled onto his back.

He looked down at his lower body, only to see a long and slim metal tail. It was surreal. The fins were perfectly formed and just like what he expected to see on a merman, but they were of the same exact metal from which Cable’s tail was made, and the fins were so wide and strong that it made him ache to think that Wade once had fins just like these, only to lose them due to the cruelty of some human. Peter gave a sad smile at the sight.

It was difficult to control his new tail; he would try to move a ‘leg’ only for his tail to move in a strange direction, so that he quickly learned to move both ‘legs’ at once for his tail to bend accordingly, and a part of him wondered if the transition would have came much easier for a swimmer, someone used to moving their legs like that. He was soon able to ‘splash’ in the air, while Wade watched him with an expression of utmost admiration and adoration, and Peter eventually managed to sit up with awe at his newfound state.

“I’m – I’m a mermaid?”

“Merman,” said a voice. “The material worked as planned.”

Cable soon appeared in the water not far from Wade, where he emerged with a flourish that made it clear he had been swimming underneath the surface for some time, and – as he appeared with a somewhat pleasant smile – Peter yelped and made to cover himself. He struggled to sit with his ‘legs’ up, but managed to turn so his tail covered his genitals and chest. It took a moment for him to realise – as he put his hands over his private area – that he was still moderately covered up, albeit with what looked like a seaweed thong.

“What is this?” Peter asked. “I’m covered up.”

“Wade’s idea,” said Cable. “We needed for your lower half to be exposed, else it could well be . . . _messy,_ if the techno-organic material tried to fuse together your legs with clothing between them creating an artificial barrier. Wade undressed you, as well as fashioned a modesty cloth for you from seaweed. It was only then that I could administer the material.”

“Seaweed is totally edible, too,” chirped Wade. “You have edible panties!”

“Yes, quite.” Cable gave a stern look. “I apologise, Peter.”

“So long as I’m covered up, I’m happy,” said Peter.

There was a pleasant breeze from the cave entrance; Peter struggled to turn himself around, but soon let his tail dip into the water and allowed the waters to cool his scales. The metal felt oddly dry and scratchy, enough that he wondered whether that was why Cable constantly sought water in a way that was almost unnatural to Wade, and – with a smile – he looked to Wade and attempted to splash him much how he had been splashed in the past.

Peter tried to work his fins into a shape conducive to scooping, although it felt impossible to gain real control, and he managed to bring his tail up a little too violently, which resulted in a lot of water coming straight at him and soaking him wet. Peter let out a cry of surprise. The laugh from Wade was excruciatingly loud. The man was doubled over, with one hand on his stomach and one hand clutching the rock wall for balance, and – without much guilt – Peter used his tail to hit Wade across the face. Wade spluttered and looked up with devilish eyes.

“Oh, you’re on, Parker,” teased Wade.

Wade made a strange gesture; it looked as if he were trying to roll up imaginary sleeves, so that Peter could almost picture him having learned it from a human, and it was clear he didn’t quite realise he needed actual sleeves for it to work. Peter laughed back and held his arms wide, as he dared Wade to dive for him. Cable gave a sigh and swam between them. The older man pressed a hand against Wade’s upper chest and said firmly:

“Not now, Wade, we have much to discuss.”

The pout that Wade gave was equally as heartbreaking as it was endearing, and Peter – with a soft laugh and gentle gesture – called Wade over to him, before he placed both hands on his partner’s shoulders and drew in a deep breath. He felt his heart begin to race, as a momentary spark of fear sank in, and lowered himself slowly into the water with a long groan of anxiousness that he couldn’t quite hold back. It felt good at first, until he began to panic with the lack of legs to move and clung to Wade by his neck in a desperate need to stay upright.

“Hey, take it easy,” said Wade. “You can’t drown!”

“I also can’t swim! Give me a second to adjust.”

“That’s what he said,” joked Wade.

Peter rolled his eyes, as Wade pulled them against the rock wall. Wade’s back was flush against it, while Peter remained clinging to him like a lifeline, and he began to fear that he was hurting his partner in some way, as he could feel his fingertips pressing dangerously against Wade’s flesh. It took him a while to learn to move his tail in a rhythm, but soon he managed to loosen his grip on Wade and keep just about above the waves.

“So what now?” Peter awkwardly asked.

“It will take you time to adjust,” explained Cable. “Your tail will have far less sensation than that of someone born into this life; you will have to make a concerted effort to keep it wet, to make sure you do not overexert it, and to check it over regularly for injuries. It will also take time to fully learn how best to move it, while phantom limb syndrome will be inevitable.”

“Yeah, I think I have that already.” Peter managed to stay afloat without help, but kept his hands pressed against Wade’s shoulders nonetheless. “I keep meaning to move my legs in separate directions, you know, to stay upright . . . keep forgetting it’s just one tail.”

“I experienced that same phenomena. I will add that the changes to your biology are mostly limited to your tail and your new gills, as such you should not be able to carry any young, but your DNA is compatible with Wade’s, assuming he still retains that ability. The dietary changes are most difficult, while I would also avoid seaweed on its own, no matter how much Wade may insist that it’s a perfectly fine snack. Do trust me on this.”

“Oh, bite me, Priscilla,” snapped Wade.

Wade rolled his brown eyes, before he guided Peter’s hands to the rock side. It felt almost like a rejection for a moment, which brought a spark of fear through Peter, as he had no idea how to survive in the wild waters or even navigate to find Wade’s village, but – with a large smirk – Wade dipped beneath the water and re-emerged with some seaweed. The water must have been more shallow than Peter expected, as Wade had no need to struggle in the least, and he handed the somewhat slimy ‘food’ to Peter with a look of sheer anticipation.

“Try it, you’ll love it!”

Peter vaguely remembered trying sushi once with MJ and Sam, where the taste of seaweed had been somewhat bitter and made him visibly wince, and he dreaded to think how it would taste soaked with seawater. He didn’t want to disappoint Wade, however, even as he babbled about how Cable brought extra food for their journey home, and – as he took a bite – he soon realised that neither man was right about the seaweed. It simply tasted bland.

“Er, does the transformation affect taste?”

“Hmm, that is a valid question.” Cable raised a finger to his mouth. “If I recall correctly, I never ate seafood before my transformation into a merman, as such I cannot comment on whether my tastes have changed. If you have anything to report regarding the matter, it could be a great use towards our research and knowledge regarding the transformation.”

“Well, I used to hate seaweed for one thing, but this just tastes . . . bland?”

“Bah,” muttered Wade. “You’re just not eating it right!”

“There’s a ‘right’ way to eat seaweed?”

The look that Wade wore was close to a pout; he leaned back against the rocks with arms folded, so that Peter almost felt bad for him, and – with a warm smile – he tried to move closer to his partner to comfort him. It was difficult. He still tried to move his tail like a pair of legs, with each side independent of the other, and he was forced to grab onto the wall a few times for balance, as he made his way the short distance to Wade.

He soon came next to his partner, with a few pants of breath. The makeshift ‘modesty cloth’ of Wade’s was also somewhat disconcerting, as the seaweed was unlike any material Peter had ever felt, and somehow it made him more aware of parts of him that otherwise he wouldn’t have thought twice about. He feared he would stand out all the more among other mermen, especially with a silver tail, and he wondered whether – at a certain point – it would be better to do as the locals did. He gave a sigh and wrapped his arms around Wade’s waist.

It felt nice to be so close to him, although strange to be chest-to-back with no clothing barrier, and that intimacy was only heightened when Wade turned around and draped his arms over Peter’s shoulders, before he gave a light kiss to his nose. Peter laughed and returned it with a kiss to his lips, but soon stopped with a blush when Cable cleared his throat. Peter pulled away just enough to look at Cable, while still keeping his arms around Wade, and asked:

“So, you mentioned gills earlier?”

Cable nodded, as he looked to Peter. He bore a strange expression, one that was hard to decipher when Peter would admit to barely knowing him, and he wondered if he didn’t see perhaps a spark of regret or jealousy in the older man’s expression. There was still a great deal of kindness and patience there, enough that Peter knew he could trust him, but he still felt that there was something deeper that would need to be addressed later. The waters felt comfortable and cool around Peter’s new tail, as he bobbed beside Wade.

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked.

“You two make a fine couple,” said Cable, as if that answered anything. “It will be necessary for Wade to depend on you greatly, Peter, at least until he feels confident enough to take the techno-organic material to heal his fins. That is a large responsibility to bear.”

“I’m ready. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have been willing to make this change.” Peter gripped Wade tighter against him. “The biggest problem will be learning to swim, because it’ll be difficult to hold onto Wade while I’m still learning, but I’ll practise non-stop if it means helping him move freely without feeling restricted. He deserves to be free.”

“You have never acted as a carer for someone in need, Peter. You may love Wade dearly, but it shall be emotionally draining nonetheless.” Cable gave him a look of almost pity. “Regardless, you asked about your gills. They will be your greatest adjustment. Your instinct will be to breathe through your human lungs, until you fight and feel as if you are drowning, but you _must_ remember not to fight the water. Your gills _will_ save you.”

Peter raised his hand to his neck. The skin felt smooth and nothing unusual, but he could also feel tiny ridges when he moved his fingers up, and – as if reading his mind – Wade pulled them further down into the water, just enough so that it covered their necks, and soon Peter felt the gills open and pulse against his touch. He let out a yelp and held fast to Wade again, as he looked and saw the gills upon Wade’s neck, and he could feel a strange sensation from the gills on his neck while they filtered through the water. It was a strange high.

“So is this where we get going?” Peter asked.

“Indeed, if you feel ready to make the journey,” said Cable kindly. “I have bags of food below, so we may linger here for a while longer, but I would suggest learning to swim at once and returning to our village. Are you ready to go under the water?”

“I – I guess. Just – just don’t go far, in – in case –”

“You will be fine, I swear.”

Cable smiled and gave a nod to Peter. He dived under the water with great ease; his silver tail flashed in the air for a brief moment, until it disappeared beneath the surface also, and Peter looked down to see Cable rested a foot or two beneath the water. The gills on his neck moved with a natural appearance, only a hint of silver betraying their artificial origin, and there was no problem with his breathing in the least, even if his chest looked still.

Peter summoned his courage and dropped down in turn.

The familiar panic rose within his chest. Wade fell with him, so both were fully submerged, and held onto his upper arms with a large amount of strength. There was no need to hold onto him so tight, unless – of course – he wanted to keep Peter in place, suspecting a struggle, and the fear only rose at the idea something could go wrong that would _require_ Peter to put up a fight to get back to the surface. Peter soon realised that he was still holding his breath, counting like he need to count the seconds until he rose, and soon he could hold it no longer.

Peter let out all the breath he had been holding. He needed air. There was nothing to breathe, only water all around, and he soon began swallowing out of instinct, as if he could somehow rid the water by ingesting it alone, and panic seeped in until he felt he needed to scream. Peter began to thrash and struggled to get back to the surface, fighting instinctively until he began to lash out at Wade and fight him, and Cable – noticing the struggle – soon held him back.

He felt as if he would die, until the sensation stopped.

It was impossible to describe; he simply felt the air in his lungs leave him, while the adrenaline seeped away after realising he was still alive, and Cable’s arms felt safe around his chest and stomach, as if he and Wade would protect him from the harsh environment. The gills on his neck moved rhythmically, in a strange motion, while he felt refreshed in a way that he could breathe without breathing, like intubation, and his body began to relax. Cable let go and Wade came over to him with a warm smile and bright eyes.

 _See, you’re fine,_ signed Wade.

Peter touched the gills upon his neck in wonder, still unable to believe that he could breathe without breathing, and he gave a laugh that was silent in the water. Wade soon took Cable’s place, but his touch was far more intimate and affectionate. He nuzzled against Peter’s neck and let his hands roam, as if making sure his partner was still there and still okay, and Peter – as he felt tears rise despite the water – began to place kisses against Wade’s cheek.

They were finally free.


	17. Epilogue

# Epilogue

“It’s time to head back.”

Peter rolled on his side to face Wade. The older man simply groaned and threw a hand up over his face, as if he could somehow pretend time had stopped, and the sands on the shore stuck to his skin in a way that looked almost human. It felt good to be back in the sun again; it was a bright summer, one where there was barely a cloud in sight and the rays warmed the skin to the point that Peter could easily fall asleep to it, and he missed these sensations.

It was easy to lose time beneath the waves, where there was no real ‘day’ or ‘night’ and people aged somewhat slower than on land, and time seemed measured by ‘generations’ than by ‘years’. He could not say how long he had been a merman, but only that he cherished every second spent with Wade and enjoying their freedom. The tides were coming in quickly, already reaching their waists, and they had sworn to those below to be back before the tides came fully in, so that they would avoid being seen by the first tourists of that morning.

“I’m comfy,” muttered Wade.

Peter gave a sigh and held Wade tight. He wrapped his arms around his partner, simply enjoying how they felt pressed against one another, and he ignored Wade’s whispered complaint that Peter’s modesty cloth felt weird against him. It was an obvious attempt to get him to remove it, but there was equally no way that Peter would risk them getting distracted or swimming back home without one. He pressed a kiss to Wade’s forehead.

“Come on, you know it’s dangerous to stay.”

“It’s our anniversary,” said Wade.

“Do you even know how many days make up an anniversary?” Peter teased. “Anyway, every day I’m with you is a day worth celebrating. It was a massive risk even coming to shore, so let’s not push our luck, okay? I’ll make it up to you back home.”

They lay in silence for a long moment. In the far distance they could see Stark Tower; there was no way of knowing whether Tony still looked through the waters, although close reconnaissance said they were safe that particular morning, and there was no way of knowing how his friends reacted or how they now lived. The tower was clearly repaired of any damage, while the balconies – clear in sight – reminded them of their beginning together.

Peter traced a hand over Wade’s stomach; it felt distended, although hard in a way that didn’t signify fat at all, and he made a mental note to try and get his lover to check it out with a doctor, so that nothing bad would catch them unaware. Wade’s skin was still scarred and marked heavily, but the fins of his tail were a silver of the same hue as Peter’s, and so strong in their repairs that Wade was back to out-swimming nearly every mermaid and merman in the village. Wade was whole again. It was enough to bring a tear to Peter’s eye.

“Do you miss being human?” Wade asked.

“Every day,” admitted Peter. “I don’t know whether MJ and Sam ever did get married, just like I don’t know whether Ava has changed mutant rights for the better, and I don’t know whether Aunt May forgives me for leaving her . . . I miss them all, but they’ll never know. Don’t get me wrong, because I don’t regret a single thing, but . . . yeah, I miss them.”

“We could have kids,” said Wade in a distracted manner. “You know, like, start our own family or something? It won’t be the same, but we could name the kid ‘May’ if it’s a girl, which would kind of be like carrying on the family name, right?”

“Our family name is ‘Parker’, but I know what you mean.”

Peter gave a laugh and placed a kiss to Wade’s neck, which caused the other man to roll over and face Peter with a wide grin, before they began to kiss in earnest. It was enough that Peter started to feel pangs of arousal, which forced him to pull back with a pant and force Wade’s hands away from his modesty cloth, and – as he licked his lips and pulled Wade’s hands to his lips for a chaste kiss – he realised the tide was getting higher, now to their shoulders. It was time to get going, but Peter didn’t want to dismiss Wade in the process.

“So ‘May’ for a girl?” Wade asked.

“Wade, you can’t even _say_ ‘May’ under the surface,” said Peter. “You’re just suggesting it, because you know the kid will have to have two names and this way you get to pick the other name, and -! Wait, why are we having this discussion? We aren’t even having a baby.”

“Hey! We have a name that means ‘child of spring’, which is what ‘May’ is, right?” Wade gave a pout. “I thought this through. The basic meaning would be the same in both our languages, so it’s basically the same name, even if it sounds different! I just can’t figure out what ‘Ben’ means, so that’s harder to work out, but we could still try! I don’t think two guys have a girl usually, like how two girls don’t have a guy, but you’re human so maybe it’ll be different, right? Little May! I like it, you’d be carrying on the family name for sure”

There was a steady sea-breeze that cooled Peter down; life was so much cooler beneath the sea, while the metal of his tail conducted heat in a way that was almost unbearable on land, and the tides were a huge comfort in helping him keep cool, especially when combined with the steady winds that were picking up in speed. He gave a soft moan of contentment, before he began to wonder why Wade was so insistent and looked down to his stomach again.

“Wade, are you . . . pregnant?”

He reached down between them and felt against Wade’s stomach, where suddenly the change in behaviour over the past few weeks became abundantly clear. Wade was usually a complete slob, enough it was a point of contention a few times, but lately he was what MJ would have called ‘nesting’ until their home was spotless. He experienced stomach cramps, increased appetite, and even mood swings. The only thing missing was the cliché of morning sickness, but otherwise it all added up. Peter felt himself feel faint.

“Only five months,” muttered Wade.

“Only five -!” Peter considerably paled. “Don’t your people only carry for six?”

“I didn’t want to say anything in case I lost them. I already lost one baby, Petey, so I can’t lose another! I haven’t been showing much; scared in case something is wrong, but they been kicking me like they got a grudge against me or something, so I know they’re okay.”

“Wade, we have less than a _month_ to baby-proof our home!” Peter ran a hand over his face. “How the frig do you even baby-proof for a mermaid? Are we going to wake up to our daughter swimming out of the window? Oh God, what about the birth and recovery period? I don’t want to see you hurt, but if you’re too scared to have the pain relief or –”

“You think I’m fucking letting someone stick me with a needle?”

“I’m _thinking_ we don’t even know if the baby will be human or mermaid, because it’s got two sets of DNA,” said Peter. “Am I going to have to swim desperately up to the surface, just so the baby can get air? Are we going to have to leave it with a human couple, just so it can live a normal life? Oh God, I – I can’t give them up, I just can’t.”

Wade gave a laugh and rolled onto his back. Peter mourned the loss of physical contact, until his partner swept his tail upright and splashed Peter with enough water to soak his previously dried hair, and he gave Wade a dark glare in irritation. It felt like a serious question, one that should have occurred to them long ago, but – in all honesty – Peter hadn’t thought they would ever get pregnant, as Wade always preferred to top, something his previous partners rarely allowed, and they both knew Peter was physically incapable of pregnancy.

“Tends to be that the kid takes the body of the host,” said Wade.

“So – so the baby will be a mermaid like us?”

“Yeah, but hopefully he gets your blue eyes! I like your eyes.” Wade sat upright and smiled. “Do you want to feel them kick? I’m surprised you ain’t felt that before, but you’re like the stupidest smart person I’ve ever met. Seriously, bastard’s strong like you are.”

“Don’t call him a bastard,” muttered Peter. “We’re married, anyway.”

“Just get here and feel him kick, will you?”

Peter rolled his eyes and sat up. It still felt unreal; the idea of having a baby was strange to him, as he spent his whole life wishing for a family to call his own, and to suddenly have everything he wanted left him feeling afraid. The last time Wade was ‘underneath’ was definitely five months ago, thereabouts, which meant there was less than a month to get used to the idea of a new addition to their lives. He wished Ben were still around for advice.

He reached over and touched Wade’s stomach; it felt hard again, like muscle and not fat, but it was definitely distended much like a pregnant person’s. There was nothing special at first, until he felt a definite ‘kick’. Peter jumped back with a gasp. The laugh from Wade broke the tension, although it didn’t break the sense of wonder and fear, and suddenly the whole thing felt _real_ and oddly imminent. He reached back out and stroked the rough skin, before he felt them kick again and realised that Wade was definitely not imagining things.

The moment seemed to last forever.

Peter let his hands move further up, until they traced over his partner’s chest and came to his cheeks, where they rested gently and held him with great respect. There was a blush to Wade’s cheeks, while his lips were pulled into a beautiful smile, and – on the sight of it – Peter could hold in his emotions no longer. He felt himself begin to cry, as he kissed Wade over and over, while his hands traced lazy patterns on his lover’s stomach.

“Want to head back home?” Peter asked. “We have a lot to prepare.”

“Aw, ain’t you the sentimental type? It’s cute!”

“I’m glad you think so,” laughed Peter.

He leaned in for a deep and passionate kiss; there was the familiar taste of seaweed and crab, as Wade’s hands buried themselves in Peter’s hair with a grip that he often used when wanting for more, and Peter – as he pulled back with a soft laugh – realised there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be. He whispered warmly:

“I love you, Wade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternate end will be posted as a separate story: "Sow the Wind".
> 
> It'll be posted as a second part to this series. 
> 
> Once it's up, I'll be happy to take odd requests for it.


End file.
